Dear Seattle Mariners . . .

I don't know where to begin, but we can't continue avoiding this conversation.

You know that I've always been faithful to you. During the good times, we were amazing. Remember 2001? Ichiro and pennant races and 'My - Oh- My?' I was your greatest fan, your biggest support. I cheered for you, bought your merchandise and even quietly wept after that fateful Yankee ninth-inning grand slam in game six.

And I was there for the bad times (roughly my birth until now, minus 2001). I stayed with you while we lost loved ones - Griffey, Martinez, Johnson, even Rodriguez (good riddance, juicer!).

And I was here for the reunion (welcome back, Jr.).

I was yours alone.

And it started out so innocently - a score-check here, a hoodie there. I never meant for it to end up this way, but...

Well, there's no easy way to say this.

I've been seeing the Padres.

It's not you.

I mean, they're not even a winning team. But - and it has to be said - they ARE out of your league (the National is so refreshing!).

I'd like to try to be friends still. I know you'll be in town next week, and I'd really like us to see each other - awkward as it might be that my new lover will also be in attendance.

Let's attempt to be civil.

xoxo,

Kristen

P.S. - in the event that you make it to a world series in the next decade, please burn this letter and accept my undying and unwavering devotion.