There comes a point in a woman’s life when she decides she no longer wants to be a “side chick”. It is depressing to be the back up plan. It is also depressing to be told I am “wrong” all the time, especially when I am not told what is “right”. It is also extremely draining to be told to “figure things out” and when I proffer a sheaf of hypotheses, not being told which one, if any, is correct. Confusion, pain, suffering, depression, despair could be remedied by a simple, direct conversation. Instead, I am given codes, clues, oblique references. The thing I need is security, and it was always tentative. I realize I am contemptible and despised by you. It angers me, and also gives me great pain. But at least I know how you feel, at long last. I am what is wrong- and nine days after you said you would never let me go.