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Whatever the answer to the question is, Peter's outdoor patio fireplace burned hot enough to burn all of my old love letters.

Cleaning out my room the other day, I came across a collection of love letters, notes written in French and Esperanto lessons from a certain someone who turned out to be a mistake. With bitter feelings residing in my head, I felt the urge to destroy the papers. However, it really didn't seem right burning them alone. So, I called my good friends to make an event of it. It turned out to just be Peter and myself burning the correspondence. Peter wanted to turn it into a male-bonding ritual, at which point, it got really weird (ask us later).

I've never really talked about my breakup here before. Essentially, I'm not too happy about how a certain relationship ended. I dated the wrong person. She was a really great friend, but I decided to take the friendship to the next level. That was a mistake. I ended up dating her for about a year and a half before I broke it up. Now, she won't even talk to me because she claims that I broke her heart. Okay, I broke her heart; sure. However, what would be preferable: breaking a girl's heart or marrying her, hating her, killing her? Even though when I broke up with her, I was thinking about myself, I ended up doing her a favour. I just didn't want to date her. I know that it seems selfish, but, if it wasn't something that I wanted, I doubt that taking her along was the best option. However, I still wanted to be her friend; I still do. I was reading all of the old correspondence before I burned it. A constant theme in the letters was something along the lines of “you're the best thing that happened to me this year”, “you've been a great friend”, “I can tell that we'll be friends forever”. Well, for such a wonderful friend that I was, that bitch sure has a unique and strange way of paying me back.