Dear Washington DC,
Hey, wow, this is kind of awkward. How long has it been since I packed up my car and left you? Two years? Feels like forever. It really is good to see you again; you look great. We had some good times in the three years we were together.
But listen, DC, I need to be honest with you; Whatever happens this weekend I don’t want you to think it means we’re getting back together. I know you too well, DC. I know you want me to think you’re all Smithsonian and Washington Monument and Cherry Blossoms, but we were together for a long time. I know what you mean when you say “Dupont adjacent” and I’ve seen what’s on the other side of the river. You always found little ways to ruin my day, like when the towering Woodly Park escalator is out and I have to trudge up the metal steps with the 20-degree wind whipping through my coat, or when you promise I’ll have no problem parking in Georgetown. Every time it’s a lie.
You always say it’s going to be different. Like that time when some crackhead broke down my front door with an ax and the next day you were all, I’m sorry, baby, I love you baby, but I knew you were never going to change.
Anyway, I met somebody new. He’s warm, healthy, laid-back…. nothing like you. I think he’s really good for me, although just between us, he is a bit of a narcissist and can be kind of shallow. But I don’t mind. We’re great together.
Man, DC, you and I pulled some crazy shit back in our day. We were legendary. If I had a nickel for every Red Line train, every Tortilla Coast margarita, every trip to the Unsafeway… but that’s in the past.
I’m really looking forward to spending this weekend with you, DC. It’s been way too long. But I don’t want to get your hopes up. I’ve moved on. I swear.
Love,
Stephanie