It's not you, it's... no wait, it IS you.

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I had to break up with my job. It went something like this:

Me: I don't think we should see each other anymore. It's just not working out.

Job: What? I'm shocked! I know I haven't had a lot of time for you lately, but you should have told me you were unhappy!


Job: Look, I know we can work this out. I can change!

Me: It's not you; it's me.

Job: I know we can work this out. Tell me what I can do to make you stay.

Me: Well, nothing, because I'm already seeing someone else.

Job: What? Oh my god, you're serious. You're really breaking up with me.

Me: Actually, it's my ex-boyfriend that I'm seeing.

Job: Ouch.

Job: But what about the free popcorn? And the dogs?

Me: You know as well as I do that we haven't had popcorn in weeks. And those dogs were cute at first, but now they stink and bark and eat out of my trashcan.

Job: I can't believe this. I don't know what went wrong.

Me: I know there's someone out there who's perfect for you. It's just not me.

So, yeah. That's how it went. You know, I dated this psycho in college briefly, and breaking up with him was very similar to this. If I recall correctly, he threw his wadded up kleenex at me. And now, since I still work here for the next two weeks, it's like we broke up but we're still living together. Wish I could go crash at a friend's place.

Love, Fluffy