Winter Onederland, Part 2

Today's post was written by a fellow American ex-pat here in London, the bright, witty, book-club-lovin', man-killin' and remarkably attractive Elizabeth Gilliland. (Did I get that right?) She gives new insight into the need for couples' counseling. And snow shovels.

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Dear London,

There comes a natural time in every relationship when a couple has to decide whether they're going to go their separate ways or buy those matching grave plots. And I'm afraid that there just isn't room in my cemetery for you. In a literal sense because you're a city, but also in a metaphorical sense because it just isn't working anymore. We both knew this was coming-- I'm an American, you're a Brit. I say "to-may-to," you say "to-mah-to" and then make me feel self-conscious about the way I pronounce my "t"s. You're full of too many annoying tourists and not nearly enough Wal-Marts or boxes of macaroni and cheese. In short, it's time to move on.

But I'm afraid one of us is having issues with letting go. And by one of us, I mean you. When a person has all her bags packed and is excited about going home to see her family, and to eat that all-important chimichanga, it is malicious to send weather conditions that will cancel her flight. Twice. And then ground her until Christmas day. This is petty behavior, London, and frankly, it's beneath you. Can't we get to that place where we're happy for each other? Where I don't cyber stalk every fresh-eyed girl who posts something in her facebook status about moving to the greatest city in the world, and where you don't send mild showers of snow to a city that is comically and completely incompetently unable to deal with it right as I'm about to leave? Because frankly, London, some of the magic was lost when I had to return from the airport and dig through the trash to find my toothpaste.

So what do you say we put this behind us, London? Let's remember the good times we had together. The strolls through Hyde Park. The Indian food. The shows, and subsequent stalking of various male celebrities. Sometimes separation helps us remember the things that we truly loved about each other, and glosses over the bad. I'll forget your tendency to leave traces of soot in my nose if you forget my propensity for eating on public transportation. And no, this has nothing to do with my exes-- flashy New York, comfortable Provo. And I swear, Phoenix and I are JUST FRIENDS; even though we will (hopefully) be spending the holidays together does not mean we are getting back together. I'm looking forward to having somewhere new in my life-- but we'll always have a special place for each other in our hearts. You even more so than you might think, since I have left some very inappropriate graffiti in some key locations around the city.

So thanks, London. For everything. Now let me leave.

Snuggle Bear... I mean, Elizabeth

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