To say that I love you would be an understatement. You’ve always been good to me. You know what I like. You give me top-notch suggestions. You understand me on a deep level.
But lately something’s changed, and I’m starting to question our relationship. And this makes me sad.
You need to understand—it’s not you, it’s me. I’m having trouble keeping up with you. You’re simply too much for me to handle. Your recommendations are always spot-on. You understand the genres I love. You even break them down into sub-genres—Dark Comedy, Indie Romance, Classic Dramas—it’s like you know what I’m thinking before I do. And that can be too much. YOU can be too much. You’re smothering me with attention.
With so many available choices at my disposal, I’m beginning to feel overwhelmed. I know that you have a job to do, and I respect that, but what about my needs? My time is valuable, too, and I think you take it for granted.
More often than not, I spend most of my time searching for something to watch. After a while, I just give up and watch nothing. I’m just tired, baby. So tired of thinking. And boy, do you ever make me think. And now you have original series of your own. You’re completely out of control.
Things used to be so simple with us. We made a great pair. You did your thing, and I did mine. We cut right to the chase. We were happy. I wish we could go back, but I feel the damage has been done. We’re past the point of no return.
So, what do you have to say for yourself?
Oh, I see. You have new episodes of Californication up now…I can’t stay mad at you.
See you when I get home.