The TSA full body scanners are the last straw. She's breaking up with air travel.
But don't feel too bad. It's not you, it's me. Or rather, it's the TSA.
I'm not going to lie. It's come between us. If I have to let someone else see me naked in order to be with you—well, I'm just not that kinky. And deep down, I don't think you are either. I think it's the TSA making you act like this. Frankly, you haven't been the same since you started running around together.
But I can't put all the blame on them. I think you went along because you thought I had to have you—that I couldn't live without you. That no matter what you did, I'd stay. And it's true, you had a pretty strong hold on me. Took away the food, and I still loved you—who wanted to eat a terrible, fattening meal anyway? Narrowed the distance between the seats, and still I stayed, using my airline miles to upgrade to first class. Charge me for baggage? I'm an economics writer—I love unbundled products. So I can see where you got the idea that I'd stick by you no matter what.
But the kinky stuff is just a bridge too far. I'm not saying I'll never see you again: we can still meet up for a drink, or even a quick weekend trip to California. But our days as a regular item are through. I'm writing this letter because one of my commenters pointed out that it was only fair to let you know what was going on.
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