Dear Mr. Robbins,
It pains me to write this, but I feel that I am no longer in love with you. Time and again, I've gone back on my word—and my better judgement—to enjoy your coffee-flavored concoctions, hoping to rekindle the spark that once made our relationship special. But the truth is, I think it's time we went our separate ways.
I don't mean to be callous, it's just that I feel we've outgrown each other. The things I used to find so charming about you—the whipped cream, the cinnamon on top, the shot of caffeine-infused adrenaline—are now the very things I despise. Just thinking about them makes my gut wrench.
I don't mean to say that I haven't enjoyed our times together. There were some truly magical moments. Remember Steinway? Still, I can't lie to myself anymore. Despite your good intentions, you always leave me feeling a little nauseous. It's not so much you as it is the lactose. And I know that's not your fault, but let's be honest, it's part of who you are. Without the milk, you're little more than a small collection of dessert toppings and a stack of waffle cones. Hardly the ingredients you need for a healthy relationship. Especially with someone who has digestive problems like I do.
I hope you can forgive me, but it's really for the best.
Sincerely,
Christopher
P.S. Please don't try to contact me by sending me coupons for ice creams cakes. As enticing as they are to redeem, my decision is final. Besides, I have recently been spending lot of time with fruit, and will be unable to accept any formal invitations from the dairy group for some time.
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