Me: Really? By phone? Huh. I kind of thought you would tell me by text - or maybe via Twitter. Anyway, you're right. It's time. You're terrible, and I should never have started seeing you to begin with. So, more crabcakes and fancy nibbles for me tonight, then. Good - I'm really hungry.
Me: No, no - I'm fine. You've been awful to me almost since day one. We're clearly not right for each other. In the roster of years with whom I've lived, you're definitely one of the worst. The only reason I haven't broken up with you is that I'm afraid of what you'll do to me - on social media and otherwise.
2017: I can tell you're hurting. I never meant to hurt you, but I should tell you that I've been seeing someone else.
2017: I know you're in shock. Do you need me to come over and talk about this? We could have a goodbye date.
Me: That's a terrible idea. You're an abusive monster, and I'm not going to endure any more of your people-slaughtering, or your Tom Petty-killing, or your racist, sexist, infantile leaders, or your natural disasters, or any of it. I'm going to go make my celebratory freedom martini, now...
2017: What do you mean, 'celebratory?' If I didn't know better, I'd say you're happy that I'm breaking up with you.
Me: Wow. You don't know better. I am happy that you're breaking up with me. I should never have started up with you. Listen - let's not make this ugly. I'm good. You're... you. Let's part ways amicably.
Me: What blow? And really, other than most of baseball season and the week we spent apart in October, what good times?
2017: There was that Bruce Springsteen concert, and the Cubs finally won the World Series. Remember? So cool!
Me: Those were both in 2016! And seriously, it would take me all night to recite just a quarter of the veritable rota of horrors, tragedies, lies, and insults to my intelligence that you have wrought for at least the last 345 days.Take care, '17. I'm outta here.
Me: I never say that something can't be worse, but yes. It will be a challenge for 2018 to be worse than you. So, good job. You've managed to get us all to reset our expectations - straight back to rock-bottom.
Me: Exactly. Okay. Hanging up. That's it, 2017. Your damage may last a generation or more, but at least you can't add anything to it, after tonight. Goodbye.
Me: *sigh* Yes, if I live to be a thousand, I will never be able to adequately describe the divinity and perfection of the eclipse. You got me, there.
Happy New Year, everyone! Today's nonsense was prompted by the OUR WRITE SIDE "Two For Tuesday" words Rota and Roster.
Labels: 2017, Abuse, Break-ups, breaking up, dating, decline of western civilization, New Year's, our write side, roster, rota, two for tuesday, writing prompt