Dear Wheaton,
There’s no way to say this easily, but I’ll try my best.
I’m not really sure where we stand anymore.
I know this may come as a surprise. I wasn’t expecting to feel this way. It’s not because of some cliché or because I’m seeing someone else. To be honest, I just don’t know if I can handle your drama.
Look, I know you’re trying to be as even-keeled as possible, but things have been rocky for quite some time. First, those people formed an advocacy group because they don’t think you’re honest or open enough. Even if they had a point, they went about it in a vitriolic way. I felt bad for you, Wheaton. People don’t understand how difficult it is to be you. I’ve tried to stick up for you in the past—you know that. I’ve written letters in your defense, and I’ve stuck up for you when drunks deface your home. A lot of the stuff you deal with isn’t your fault. It’s not fair.
Even so, I can’t help but think you’ve taken things too far. You’ve called out people on campus for participating in the advocacy group just because they created a perfectly respectful and completely unaffiliated petition. Please don’t deny it, Wheaton—it’s true. I understand that people have attacked your values, and that you’ve become defensive as a result. Their behavior is totally unacceptable. However, when your friends ask you to be more transparent in a respectful way, you really should listen. I want to be honest with you, Wheaton, and I want you to be honest with me. Is that too much to ask?
Anyway, I’ve heard that you’re going to try to be more transparent, Wheaton. I believe you. The people who complain about you without really knowing you are silly and misguided. The truth is, I still love you, Wheaton. I love your professors and your workers and even some of your students. I love your library and your chapel and, yes, your Dimple. I want to stay with you. I just need you to handle your drama in a more productive way.
I hope you understand where I’m coming from. I’m sure I’ll hear from you soon.
Love,
Alex