A Break-Up Letter From Your Avocado
You used to put me on everything, and now it's all just toast.
Nataliya Arzamasova / Shutterstock Dear Audra,
This is weird, and a little sudden and unexpected. It's hard for me to say because I'm pretty sure you love me more than anyone ever has. I just think, enough is enough; let's quit and break up while we're ahead.
Remember the day we met? You were out to lunch with some friends and you saw me from across the room. I think I was just, like, in a salad that day.
I'm pretty sure I didn't even look that good. The lights in that place were awful and I was just lying there, hungover, under a slimy tomato. But I heard your voice across the room, talking about me to your friends.
You said, "Can you believe I've never had avocado? Not even in, like, guacamole! That's it, I'm gonna do it. I'm ready." And you smiled with a wicked little gleam in your eye. And I just knew ...
You took that first bite.
"Oh my god," you said, and your eyes widened. "I'm in love."
Usually, it would freak me out — someone being that forward. But something was different about you. From that day on, it was like we were inseparable.
You brought me home with you and let me into your life.
You introduced me to your friends and to your parents. Remember when you thought they wouldn't like me, but then you put me on a BLT and they were all, "Wow, we were wrong about avocado"? That made me so happy.
You had me on everything. You got me to try things I never expected. That time you spread me on Ritz crackers with the spray cheese, I felt so trashy but it was such a fun night.
Or, that long weekend you bought the expensive Spanish ham to wrap me in — Jamon Iberico. I still like saying it and rolling the "r," and I didn't think it would work but it did, and we spent the whole weekend in bed together.
That time we did the pit stuff was weird but remember all the times you peeled me down and went for it like you didn't need anything but me?
And now it's all toast.
I see that glimmer in your eye when you spot me in the morning. And I get hopeful that the old Audra is in there somewhere.
But then it's to the toaster, and the chia seeds and the harissa. And yeah, maybe the occasional trickle of Sriracha when you think you're spicing things up.
It cuts me in half, it really does.
And then you snap my picture and put it on Instagram. And we're #healthy and #blessed. That first time, I understood; it was a milestone. But now it's every day.
I don't feel healthy; I don't feel blessed. I feel #smothered, and not just by the poached egg you nestle on top of me at breakfast.
I mean, yesterday it was heart-shaped toast and #truelove, and it seems like you're trying to prove that there's still some magic with us, but we both know it hasn't been there in forever.
It's a lot of pressure on me when you hunt me down at three stores because there's a shortage. You were so strong and independent when we met, and now you're hyperventilating for a whole day if you can't find me.
Plus, the toast. It really comes down to that. It's all we do!
I miss Taco Tuesday. And I can't remember the last time we just did simple guacamole and snuggled with some chips and Netflix.
Even a whole sandwich would be better than this open-faced sh*t. Sometimes I just need my privacy.
I think a clean break is best. I mean, I don't see this going anywhere. Do you?
Truly,
Squishy (I promise you're the only one who will ever call me that.)
P.S. I've already been doing stuff with some of your friends. It's going to show up in your Instagram feed. Don't make it weird, OK?
Iva-Marie Palmer is a pop culture writer and published YA author. Visit her website for more information or follow her on Twitter.