So long, mi amore...

Dearest Toronto Craigslist,

For the last several months, I have indulged in a guilty affair with you. I read over your many offerings, and found myself posting to the Rants & Raves section with guileless passion and amusement. You were a guilty pleasure, and you made me feel naughty -- knowing as I did that you harboured such miserable ceatures in your mist.

But the glow has faded, my dearest. I know longer seek out your petty posts, and bait the misogynists, idiots and stupid ones. I find myself skipping past half your topics, choosing instead to quickly scan your job ads -- which are mostly people wanting professional services with piss-poor pay. Your "gigs" section is full of starter projects, money-making scams and people looking to make amateur porn. Late at night, I weep softly knowing that the magic that made "us" so special has faded.

We always knew it had to end. And while I yearn to feel again the warm embrace that comes from reading such peurile trash, I know this is for the best.

I would like to remain friends... and keep checking your job board for the part-time I seek (that isn't marketing, telemarkering and retail). I know that we can remain in each other's lives -- but never with that intense flash of passion that so fueled our early days.

And in the words of Homer Simpson...
"Dear Baby, Welcome to Dumpsville. Population -- you."

Adios.