RACHEL'S COLUMNS

These articles appeared in Rachel's column every Friday in the A3 section of The Age


Farewell, you were the best I ever had
11th February 2005

This is not going to be easy, I doubt any one except Dante could describe how rubbish I feel at this moment. I'll make it plain and simple - this is my final column. I've said it now, it's out there, no use pretending it's not happening. I know I know , just three sleeps before Valentine's Day is not a good time. But is there ever a good time? And please don't think I'm squirming out of paying for one of those schmaltzy tabloid ads declaring my desire for you. Six column lines don't insure happiness.

At first, I thought I'd tell you before the Xmas holiday season, so we could both limbo into the arms of others for support and mischief during the break. But just the thought of not writing to you and for you, made me beat my pillow with both fists and sulk for three days. Remember when I wrote that "December is the cranky month," well, that was when I'd got notice that this might happen. Can you imagine how hard it's been keeping these feelings to myself, knowing all the time that this day would come; sooner rather than later?

Bathed in perspiration I went though all the letters and emails you'd sent to me during our time together, delivering your opinions, unraveling my arguments and all too often revealing more about yourself than I needed to know. Yes you mister, you know who you are! What possessed you to tell me how many freckles you've got on your buttocks? And how did you find the time to look at yourself for so long, I'm lucky if I find the time to speak to my mother once a week.

From time to time as if I needed to reassure myself that I'm not perfect, you'd send a few sharp words, intended to hurt. And, indeed my initial reaction was one of pain, followed by uncontrolled laughter when I worked out that neurotics believe in a flawless ideal world and that's not the world I live in – sorry. But this happened rarely and generally around the full moon. And no, I was never bored, if that's what you're thinking. Ours was a relationship born of common interests and afflictions.

The time I wrote about lonely dogs and how their yapping made me want to chew my own ankle, I got an email from an animal psychologist (no, he doesn't use a couch, I asked). He helped me throw off my guilty burden by letting me know that he deals with dumb palookas every day who know less about how to look after a domestic pet than they do about chewing gum. Like the woman who called him to complain that her dog was, "licking itself." When he asked where the dog was licking itself, she simply replied, "there." Thirty excruciating minutes later he was able to offer advice. "If it's licking its backside, it's probably got worms, not a personality disorder, go see your vet." From you I learnt that there are very few real doggy-disorders, only a lot of dysfunctional owners.

Together, we got through the gobbledygook, bribes, and crass pursuit of power in last year's election extravaganza. And, you let me know that divine intervention made computers crash when you attempted to respond to my lonely-hearts ad. No, I have no secret anti-lust email virus; it's just my bad luck, but thanks for trying. I want you to know that it's not you, it's me, I'm not the stay-at-home one-column type.

I'm heartbroken too, because I never wanted it to end this way. But I know its best to finish up before the cracks start appearing and rumors of an affair hit the gossip pages, that would hurt too much. We all change and move on, in my waters I know that you need to start reading other columns now. Thankfully we have no sizable assets to split up and we still care about each other. You'll always have a special place on my website. It's really none of your business, but no, there isn't any one else. Oh, and you're not the biggest readership I've had-but you were the best. Keep in touch.

I'll miss you.

Call me tomorrow.