Victoria? I’m sorry, but I’ve met someone else. Her name is Morena.

We’ve had a passionate love affair for decades. It’s time to say goodbye.

I know it’s so cliché, but …

It’s not you. It’s me.

But it’s so true. You are wonderful, you are delicious. You are one of a kind. Truly, this Morena, she doesn’t replace you, she’s just, well, she’s, uh, she’s available.

And you’re not.

You’re not here. I’m not there. She’s here. She’s there for me. You haven’t been. It’s been a long time, Victoria. Too long.

I’m sorry, but unless you can find a way back into my heart, like physically here in my heart, I’m afraid this is it.

I’ll always be open to the future. As the cliché goes, Let’s remain friends.

I know you’re fine without me. I’m less fine without you. Morena will never be Victoria. I know that. You know that. She doesn’t, well, I don’t think she knows that and we don’t have to tell her. But she’s no Victoria.

I love you, Victoria. I always will.

You hold a special place in my heart and dare I say I hope you even make an appearance at my funeral if that doesn’t sound too gruesome right now.

But it’s evening. And I’m hungry. And Morena is here.

And you’re not.

Be well, my sweet. My sweet and spicy Victoria.

Victoria? I’m sorry, but I’ve met someone else. Her name is Morena.

Victoria? I’m sorry, but I’ve met someone else. Her name is Morena.