A "Dear Barack" Letter

Dear Barack,

We've had some good times over the last few years. Hell, 2008 was one of the most hopeful times in my life. Remember all those rallies and adoring crowds? God, it was wild. I didn't think I could keep up with you; you were so intense, so passionate. But once we started living together, things changed.
...

If you care to know why, let me explain. You started to take me for granted. Almost immediately your eye started to wander. When we'd go out, I'd always think, "I'll be he's looking over there at that table to the right." You told me not to worry about it. You said that I was still your heart and soul.

I got into this relationship without any illusions about who you were. I never listened when others told me that you were perfect. I never listened when some told me you weren't worth my time. I got together with you because I believed in us. You and me. Somewhere along the way, you stopped caring. Somewhere along the line, you started believing in others more than you believed in me.

I loved you as a smart, principled man. I worked at this relationship. Even when we fought, I still sought out the good in you. Now, finally, after watching you have affair after affair, saying each time that it was just a one-time thing, I have to allow myself to feel bitter and angry and more than a little foolish. And I have to do that by myself.

So this is a separation, and I'm sure you'll be dating again quickly. But I need a break. I need to remember why I loved you. I need to miss you. I need to see if I miss you. Sure, sure, you'll say, I'm being a drama queen, that nothing has changed, that I don't live in the real world, that everything you've done has been for me, that I just don't understand what it's like to live with the pressure that you have. No, but I have to live with the results of what you do. And after you're done, in 2013 or 2017, you'll still be a rich moderate conservative and I'll still be a middle-class liberal trying his best to clean up all the messes.

I'm gonna pack up my stuff and head out now. I wish you well, truly, for everyone's sake. But I think if there's anything you can take away from this, it's simple:

It's not me. It's you.

Sincerely,
The Rude Pundit

Don't worry, Barry, you've still got me. I'm old and slow to change and stubborn and sometimes not too smart and right now I'm so disappointed with you that I could just shit, but I still love you. I still have the hopelessness of faith in you and where else am I gonna go anyway? I'll keep hoping and waiting for you to come around and in the meantime you can sleep in the doghouse.

Love,
Gordon