“Woman dumped ghost lover after he started doing drugs and partying.”
—Entertainment Daily, October 14, 2020
Relationships are hard. But so is being dead, I get it. I mean, I’m not totally unreasonable. I’m alive, living my life, running to Walgreens when I feel like some Ben and Jerry’s, and my boyfriend is ectoplasm. It can be tough overcoming differences like that. But I was committed to making it work.
There were so many good times, you know? Laughing at the same corny TV shows, lazy Sunday mornings in bed, holding hands as we walked by the river. I mean, it was a little weird for me since it just looked like my arm was sticking out at a 45-degree angle for no reason, and everyone thought, “Hey, is your arm okay? Can you bend your elbow? Do you need some help?” But that never bothered me.
You know what did bother me? The nights alone. TV and movies make you think that's a bad thing: “Oooh, it’s a vulnerable single woman home alone at night, sure would be a shame if her house was HAUNTED!” There's Scream, Nightmare on Elm Street, Halloween, I could go on and on.
But I wanted to be haunted! In fact, I loved being haunted! Obviously! That’s how I met you! But instead of me fleeing the house every night, it was you. How screwed up is that? You, my spirit boyfriend, would rather go haunt Buffalo Wild Wings than spend time with me. An isolated, single woman alone in my house with uncovered patio doors overlooking a moonlit backyard, no landline, and spotty cell service. I could not have made a more inviting home for you. For us. But you had to go smear your ectoplasm all over some random skank at World of Beers.
I’m so STUPID!
Do you know what it’s like for me when you’re out haunting someone else? It’s quiet. I mean, there are no branches scraping the windows, no creaking floorboards, no doors mysteriously opening. It’s awful. I can’t live like this. What I wouldn’t give for the sound of footsteps on the basement stairs right now. But please, by all means, keep living it up at the bar every Friday and Saturday night. That’s right, I said it. LIVING. It. Up.
I shouldn’t admit this, but what have I got to lose: I got the Ouija board out last night after you left. Do you know how many hot dead guys want to talk to me? Okay, none so far, but I’m not sure I’m using it right. I couldn’t find that triangle thingy so I used a pita chip and it seemed like maybe I wasn’t getting through. Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that if I wanted to, I could be haunted by tons of other spirits. That’s right. I could be haunted all night long while you’re gone. And then haunted again the next morning.
We used to have such big plans. What happened to those? We’d enjoy a quiet life together (well, technically only I would be enjoying life), save our money, and maybe eventually put a down payment on a cute little bungalow. Nothing fancy, just something cozy and secluded, maybe near a graveyard. We’d spend a few happy years together, and then I’d die and join you in the spirit world. We were so psyched about that part! But you’ve been so distant lately. It’s almost like you don’t want me to die. What happened to those dreams? What happened to us?
Look, I wish you well. I do. I want all good things for you: happiness, love, a nice high-strung, highly suggestible young woman stranded in an abandoned mental hospital just as the lights go out. And I know you’ll find all those things. But for my own well-being, it’s time for me to move on. Who knows, maybe I’ll go in a different direction, have a fling. Just something light and fun, no expectations. You know, I heard there’s a ZombiesOnly.com now? Maybe I’ll swipe right and find myself a cute zombie to have a few laughs with. Nothing too serious. No head games! Possibly even no head, but I think you can filter on that, I don’t know.
Anyway, I’ll miss you. I still have the headless doll you left on my porch swing that first night. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll keep it.