Dear M.


Dear M,

This is one of the hardest letters I’ve ever had to write. I’ve thought long and hard about this and I’m sorry but I’m just going to come out with it. This can’t go on. I simply don’t have the strength to keep going through this with you, year in, year out. Every time I tell myself it’ll be different, but it never is.

It was all so good at first. Being with you made me feel warm and alive, like we were made to be together. You gave me confidence, security, all the things I craved. We brought out the best in each other. But I guess it’s only natural that the warmth fades away over time, somehow leaving me feeling even colder than before.

It’s funny really, ‘cos on paper all the right elements are there. I love the way you smell, the warm caress of your embrace but somehow in reality it all leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I find myself falling under your spell, but it’s all just illusion and cheap trickery. The idea of being with you is somehow always better than the actuality. And that can’t be good for either of us.

This thing I have with you, it’s all just fleeting. I put it down to a touch of seasonal madness myself. Temporary insanity brought on by the unwise consumption of too much champagne over the festive season. Like an office party fling that gets out of hand. Every year.

The morning after is always harsh, a bitter reminder that once again I have momentarily allowed you to seduce me. I lie miserable in my bed, regretful and ashamed. But no more. I will be strong.

I don’t think we can be friends. We’re so much more than that, yet also so much less. You’ve seen some of my most intimate aspects but in other ways you barely know me at all. I know that I should trot out some tired cliché to salve your conscience and spare your feelings but the truth is, it isn’t me, it’s you.

So this is goodbye. And next year, if it looks like my resolve might be weakening, please just leave me be. Let me walk away with at least a shred of dignity.

Mulled wine, we’re done.

Written by Katrina Ray from the key phrase Mulled Wine.

  7 Responses to “Dear M.”

  1. Great, Katrina. It kept me guessing until the end!
    And I agree with previous posters – what a waste of wine!!
    Happy Christmas, love, Masha xxx

  2. Mulled wine is a waste of wine. And mull. In medieval times it was a necessity – most wine tasted like weasel’s piss and needed honey and other crap to make it drinkable – but now you can get relatively quaffable stuff for £3.99 a bottle ruining it with cinnamon and star anise should be outlawed. Bah. Humbug… 😉

  3. how can you do that to mulled wine? lol

  4. Ha, me and mulled wine never got on. You are better off without them!

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