Where do I start?
I remember when I first laid eyes on you. Everyone thought you were just like the rest of them, but beneath that political exterior, I had a feeling you could be so much more. You were different. You cared. I really should have seen it coming.
At first, things were great. You were the perfect gentleman; wooing me with words. Promising to help me when I needed it, but never demanding that I be dependent on you ... like it is now. Back then, you promised great things, told me exactly what I wanted to hear. But as time wore on, things have changed. Your tone, your actions.
You avoid eye contact and point the finger when I ask you why things are the way they are. Unemployment, debt, gas prices. I think you got confused about which should go up, and which should go down. Then you have the nerve to try and charm me and other women with the proverbial box of chocolates known as "free birth control." Is that all you have to offer?
I know it's bad timing - Valentine's Day and all - but I just can't hide my feelings any longer. I've given you so many chances to really change, but instead, everything around me is changing. For the worse. I'm ready for a new way of things. Looks like you are, too.
I mean, did you really think I didn't see you flirting with lobbyists? Letting your loyalty wander as they courted and complimented you? I know what they have to offer that I just don't want to give away: Money.
Speaking of which, you had the nerve to promise me you would cut your spending. Ha! And I believed you. Now I find out you just spent $402,721 of my hard-earned money on smoke detecting underwear. For what do you even need that? The lobbyists? You said you'd cut the debt, but all you've done is raise it and given yourself room to raise it even more.
Worst of all, you promised me that if I liked my health insurance plan, I could keep it under ObamaCare. Now, I'm one of the millions left out in the cold. I mean, even if we stuck this out for ten years, there'd still be the same number of uninsured people in the U.S. What was your plan?
You've become so focused on your career, you've forgotten about me. Your promises fall flat and, after having my heart broken so many times, I've learned not to expect much from you.
You blame your broken promises on partisan politics, saying "It's not me; it's them." But who hasn't heard that line before?
Go ahead, try and rewrite history like you have. Pen about it, why don't you? You seem to like making executive decisions without me anyway.
I hope that one day you realize what you've lost, but I'm not going to wait around for that day. This Valentine's Day, I've had enough. It's not me; it's you. We're breaking up.