Broken Hearts

An open letter to my over-friendly boss, I like my job…I like to think I worked hard to get it and also hard to maintain my position. The last thing I expected when I was entering the corporate world was to deal with an “overly friendly” boss who seems to be unaware of the boundaries between an employer and their employees. Of course I am familiar with how the likes of sexual harassment is portrayed in television and film but I always expected this to be somewhat exaggerated for entertainment. Little did I know that I would be experiencing it on a near daily basis. Without wanting to brag I am a fairly pretty woman in her mid-20s, I take pride in my appearance (especially at work) and don’t mind being complimented on it…when the time is right. But I must say I was quite...
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To my Ex, It has now been almost exactly 20 years since we first met. Young college students, happy, carefree, excited about life. We spent that first day together talking for hours and hours about everything and nothing at all. We instantly fell into a deep friendship. For years you were my best friend, closest confidant, love. We had our share of difficult times and your response to stressful situations frightened me a little. I can clearly remember the fear I felt the time you lost your first job and the neighbors called the police thinking one of us was beating the other. ….but overall times were good. We shared mutual interests, we did things together, we were both happy and life was great. We decided to have children. Got married. Bought a house. We were living the...
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I tried to be your friend. I tried to go back to a time when I only saw the good in you. I made excuses for your behavior. I made apologies for your mistakes. I believed you when you lied. I kept quiet while you screamed. I agreed with all you said. We talked every day of your problems, but never of mine. I walked on eggshells around you. You destroyed me. And when I asked you to just go ahead and hit me (because at least that kind of hurt heals), you said you weren't that kind of guy. No. You are the kind of guy that will let me live with what you did the rest of my life. Knowing no one can see the scars, so no one would believe it. Everyone thinks you're great. Generous to a fault. Life of the party. And I suppose to those who don't try to get closer and can take you or leave you...
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I don’t hate you. But there’s some stuff you need to know. The first time I heard your name was over wine and calamari at a little bar in New York City. I was on a first date with the man who would become my son’s father — your ex-boyfriend at the time — and we were going through all those first date details: Exes, favorite food; career goals. You never really came up after that. He took me on thoughtful dates. One I will always remember was a trip to the famous Books of Wonder in New York City. We milled around rows of children’s books, sat with our backs against the wall; had pie and coffee in the cafe. It was a whirlwind. He invited me to his work holiday party. We rode the subway to the Upper East Side, mingled with his coworkers at the intimate gathering — and drank a lot...
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