The Dear John Letter

My dear Napola, my friends tried to warn me that I had plunged into this relationship too soon. I do tend to have this bad habit of plunging over and over, swirling in my self made abyss. So taken by your Italian allure, I too quickly scrubbed my relationship with Odessa, conservative and dependable.

            I will sorely miss you. We seemed to have shared that perfect fit but no longer. I find myself, flushing still as I replay what we once had. I’ll miss reading to you and sharing the many courtesy flushes in our make-believe library.

            We indeed shared special moments in our master of all baths. Steamy showers, being pelted by the Kohler pulsating shower head, are a thing of the past. Regardless to the desired setting, the massaging action no longer happens; another sign that we can no longer be. Hot showers have now turned cold. Oh how our ultimate escape pod has deteriorated. Discolored grout and scum stain the glass, masking what once was.

            I surrounded you with exquisite golden fixtures, mood lighting and a vanity worthy of a queen. These have been reduced to dripping, spraying atrocities, the lights and vanity now coated with the dust of time, marble scarred and scratched; drains that can no longer be trusted to deliver what I offer. The plush carpet that once brought tingles to my toes, feels ragged and worn as I make my way to your sitting chamber.  

            I’ve adorned you with the longest lasting Extra Soft tissue a man could buy. You’ve enjoyed perfumed sprays transforming your abode into a tropical fresh paradise.   Even these perks have not satisfied you. You only craved more.

What have you given me in return? Mineral deposits have replaced your pearly whites. You have made mockery of our affair with those disgusting yellow rings of yours. I have grown tired of your constant running, waking me up at all hours of the night to silent you with a jiggle. I am not your personal jiggle-lo!  I still have suspicions about you and that plumber last winter.

            I find you shallow even though you attempt to lure me with your water saving promises. The excruciating sounds of your exhaust fan leave my ears ringing. I can not continue to endure this pain while sitting patiently in your company.  We regularly embraced cheek to seat but your once cushy existence offers no comfort to my weary rear. 

            I sit here in the guest bath along with Elger writing this final farewell. I understand how you enjoy the social interactions; however, I am too embarrassed to invite over family and friends because I have grown tired of making excuses for your port-o-potty appearance and outhouse behavior.

            There’s nothing to be gained in me jerking your chain. It is only fair that you keep our brush and plunger. Sadly, the time is right for a life altering extreme makeover; yours, then mine.

With Love,

Your Bathroom Buddy