My Darling Portlandia,
I’m afraid our great love has reached its expiration date. You have given me 14 years of rapturous joy and torturous pain. I thought we would be together forever, but alas. . . I fear we have outgrown one another. You will remain in my heart, the thriving, vivacious and curious girl that I fell in love with, but that is not what you have become. I call to question the lavish tastes you’ve come to acquire and your undiscerning choices of house guests. Your promiscuity has tested the limits of my faithfulness and, my dear, I’m afraid I can take no more. I doubt not that you will continue to grow and thrive and that you will make your mark on the world. However, my soul longs for a simpler, quieter life with a love who is more devoted than you can ever be. I wish you all the best and thank you for the valuable lessons you have taught me. I am me because of you.
P.S. Please forgive me for not ending this in person. I know you would just use your feminine wiles to lure me back in, with your record collection, fabulous homemade tacos and heady home-brew.