Listen, Karen, we've been together a long time-which makes this all the more difficult. That's part of the reason I'm breaking up with you by fax" ... and leaving the country tomorrow.
We had some good times. I never believed in love at first sight until I saw you... you were the most beautiful girl at the cockfight. Your wheelchair sparkled in the dim light of Pepe Escobar's basement, and the winding elegance of your feeding tube had me speechless.
What could I do? I had never met anyone so sexually liberated. Do you remember the first night we spent together? I asked what your favorite position was, and you said, "passed out in a trolley car." You blew my mind. Little did I know that the lack of handicap-accessible public transportation here in Issaquah would prove a recurring obstacle to our mutual growth.
Then came the fighting: You accused me of being controlling, of pushing you around. I felt hampered by your co-dependence, whether analyzing the unresolved issues with your father or sterilizing your catheter. Whenever your oxygen tank ran out, I felt responsible.
And it wasn't all physical. As time wore on, the personality quirks I found so charming at first grew increasingly annoying. The sleeping 20 hours a day, the bleeding out the eyes. The once-spontaneous visits to the emergency room...