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October, 2013

It’s Not Me, It’s You: A Breakup Letter To MMA


(“You had to give it to him: he had a plan. And it started to make sense, in a Tyler sort of way. No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide.” – Narrator)

By: Jason Moles

Dear Mixed Martial Arts,

They say breaking up is hard to do…but they’re wrong. Please, don’t speak. Let me talk for once.

For the better part of eight years, I’ve lived and breathed you. At first, it was just a little crush, but a couple years later it matured into something more. I was truly, madly, deeply in love with you. Three years ago, I finally worked up the nerve to ask you out, and to my surprise, you said yes. In the beginning, you were all I could think about. You dominated my conversations with coworkers in the break room and were the reason for countless missed BBQs with my family. But not anymore. It’s the end of the road, ergo, time for me to fly.

Let me be real clear. It must’ve been love, but it’s over now.

It’s funny; life never goes the way we plan, never turns out how we expect. Never did I anticipate us falling apart like this. It’s almost as if the cosmos are playing games with our heart, letting us think but for a brief moment that we’re on the brink of reaching true happiness before we trip over the monkey wrench thrown our way. Speaking of heart, CagePotato Ban notwithstanding, (and rightfully so, I might add) one needs a lot of it if they’re to enjoy successful relationships in this life. One only need look as far as Jenna Jameson and Tito Ortiz (or Rampage and his diet) to realize the consequences of pursuing a relationship with anything less.

Every rose has its thorn (some more than others) and I’m tired of holding on.

This whole year has been an agonizing internal struggle for me. You’re driving me crazy and I hate it! I hate that I used to care so passionately about you, that I would pass up trips to the lake with family or a night out with friends because I wanted to spend time with you. And now? You’re irritating me to no end. You’re so dang needy. You didn’t know it, but I’ve been going behind your back trying to find friends to help move or neighbors who needed help painting so I’d conveniently not be available on Saturday nights. I need space; I can’t do this anymore.

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