Dear Wife,
I’m writing this letter with a heavy—but resolute—heart. After seven years of marriage, I’ve decided I’m leaving you for good.
These past couple of weeks have been the final straw. You’ve become distant, cold, uninterested. When I came home from work last week, you didn’t even notice my new haircut. I spent an hour at the salon, hoping you’d say something—anything. You said nothing.
I cooked your favorite meal—lasagna with garlic bread—and you scarfed it down without a word, then disappeared into the bedroom. No thank you, no smile. And don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding me in bed for the past month. The intimacy is gone. The spark is dead.
And then I found out you quit your job. No explanation. No discussion. That was the final blow. I can't be married to someone who doesn't communicate or care.
I’ve met someone else—your sister, to be exact. She gets me. She listens. And she noticed my new silk boxers, by the way.
We’re starting a new life in West Virginia. Don’t try to find us. It’s over.
Have a nice life.
—Your Ex-Husband
Dear Ex-Husband,
Thank you. Your letter genuinely made me smile for the first time in weeks. You're right—we've been married seven years. Though if we’re being honest, only the first one felt like a real marriage. After that, I mostly felt like your roommate who did your laundry and tolerated your endless whining.
Let’s unpack a few things, shall we?
Your haircut? I noticed. I stayed silent because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You looked like a backup dancer from an early 2000s boy band.
Your “famous” lasagna? You mean the one with three layers of burnt noodles and no sauce? I stopped eating dairy months ago. You’d know that if we actually talked.
Your silk boxers? I saw the price tag still dangling—$49.99. Next time, remove it before trying to impress someone. It’s hard to look sexy when you're a walking clearance rack.
As for quitting my job—you’re right. I did. What I didn’t mention is that I won the lottery. Ten million dollars, to be exact. I was planning to surprise you with two tickets to Jamaica. I even had a candlelit dinner planned, until you stormed out like a budget drama king.
And as for my sister… oh honey. You really didn’t know? Let’s just say she used to be Carl. Hope you're open-minded.
But hey, you two have fun in West Virginia. I’ll be here—relaxing in the Caribbean sun, drinking mojitos, and basking in my quiet, luxurious, husband-free life.
Warmest regards,
Your Ex-Wife, and soon-to-be best-selling author of “Dodging a Bullet: My Accidental Divorce and Ten Million Dollar Glow-Up.”
P.S. I gave your dog a better home. He deserves someone who notices when he gets a haircut.