You and I have had our differences in the past, and I swear to God, I have done everything I can to try and understand you. I know that you had a difficult upbringing, and, like anyone in a relationship, you brought baggage to ours. No one would say we have had an easy relationship, but for the most part, we’ve worked fairly well together over the last eight years. Sure, there have been arguments, and we’re both guilty of losing our tempers, but we had some good times, too, didn’t we? Remember that form that worked out on first try? Ha. Yeah, that was a good one.
Lately, though, I’ve noticed we seem to be growing apart. Eight years is an awfully long time for any relationship, and I know I’m not the first, or the only one, you’ve been with. We didn’t establish this as a dedicated, monogamous relationship, but…well…*I* certainly haven’t used any other databases since I met you. I’ve dabbled here and there, but. Well. No hard feelings. I guess I just thought things would be different. I don’t know why; probably, that’s unreasonable of me.
Do you remember when we first met, and you were having so many problems? Who was the one who went to counselling? Who took all those classes to try to “understand” you better? It was me. ME, database. You did nothing. You just sat there, binging and flinging out error messages…I should have known then that you’d be criticising everything I tried, no matter how logical the arguments; no matter how correct the parameters. But I thought it would be different. I thought I could change you. I thought….damn it, I thought you would give me *some* leeway. I thought you might meet me halfway, allow me some aggregate function in your life.
I see now that’s not going to happen. I see now that our relationship will always be one of strained expressions. It didn’t seem like a lot to ask, just to get you to do some simple calculations a couple of times a year. Is that too much? When we first met, you told me, “it’s what I do”. Is it, Database? Is it what you do? Even now? After ten, twelve years?
I’m writing this letter to tell you that we’re done. No more hand-holding, no more delicate coddling. Our relationship, which has, of late, been strained at best, is going to be only work-related from now on. No late night trysts and union queries. No weekend control manipulation. From now on, it’s strictly business. If I need a number, you’re going to give it to me, and that will be the end of our communications. I’m not going to bother commenting in your code anymore. I’m not going to struggle with compilation. I’m not going to comb all night through your lookup fields.
The more things change, Database, the more they stay the same with you. I’m moving on. I saw a nice SQL sitting over in the corner; provided it has a usable interface…well…like we said in the beginning – we never agreed to be monogamous. So you just go ahead with that smug look on your screen. I know a guy, Database. You’re not indispensable, you know that? You’re not irreplaceable. I need more, Database, and you’re not the one who can give it to me.
So this is goodbye. Sure, there are going to be loose ends and unfinished business; we’ve been together for eight years, after all. I get the toaster oven, though.