Sayonara, credit cad. Yeah, you read that right: credit cad. I had no idea until today how much power you had over me. Because you were my first and only cad, I didn’t want to cut off contact with you, even after I’d cut up that momento you’d given me. (Pure plastic–I should’ve known how cheap you were, under all that swagger!)
You were gentle with me, most of the time. Just coos about “we can afford this; you deserve this.” And because I listened, you never needed to leave the charm phase. I was that much of a dope.
When you said, “I can cover this,” I felt like you really cared. Somehow, I didn’t mind getting the itemized bill at the end of the month; in that moment at the restaurant, you seemed like a gentleman.
I was the lucky one: somehow you never got me so fully under your sway that I couldn’t pay you off. You never got to turn your extortion goons on me.
But don’t think I don’t know about the others. I’ve seen their carefully treasured momentoes, tucked away in their pretty little purses.
And I’ve heard how it turns out for those who can’t pay you back.
And those “dividends”? Now that I think about where they came from, I can’t believe I ever got excited about them. Since I only had a few late payments, nearly all of those “incentives” was coming from other suckers strung out on your line. These are people: people panicked about their finances that you and your minions are milking for all they’re worth.
Of course, they–like I–gave you a hold on them. Which is why this is the last letter from me you’ll ever receive. No more monthly correspondence. No little notes with checks attached. No fevered checking on my status to make sure you’re still “cool” with me. And I’m blocking your personal ads–those pre-approved offers you keep sending me. I am not interested.
It only took me six years to catch on.
When I called just now your first hireling told me he didn’t have the authority to break everything off. I knew what that meant: he was sending for the Big Kahuna to sweet talk me into something I no longer want. Well, I’m sure you’ve heard about how that went. At some point, bringing up the years we’ve been together is the most abrasive strategy there is: it shows me how much of an idiot I’ve been for the last six years. So database that: you’ve lost your hold on me.
You’re no longer my security blanket, my soulmate, my pretend sugar daddy. ‘Cause I’ve learned that even when you go along, I’m the one who always pays.
You were all cunning: “Can’t we just work this out? Don’t you want to wait until you build up your next divided allotment?” Yeah, I know what that means: delay this indefinitely until we can get back ahold of you! Well, sir, I’m happy to give you my $43.99. Because, like I mentioned, it’s not my money anyway. Why don’t you give it back to that grandma on line 2 that you’re trying to guilt trip into payments she can’t afford?
You had all your pretty figures in a row: how long we’d been together, how much money we’d spent together, how many divided dollars you’d given me, how “savvy” I’d been to pay off my card each month. Yeah, well, if I’d been really “savvy” I never would have taken up with you in the first place!
Six years, and what did you just tell me? Forty thousand dollars; $350 dividend dollars.
Ha: shows just how “generous” you are, eh? I had to spend 40k in order to see a fraction (0.875%) of that back. And it didn’t cost you a dime!
So I stuck to my line: I was changing my spending strategy because I was taking a Dave Ramsey class, and Dave had put me to wise on how to make sense of my finances.
I can just imagine the shudder that name gives you, which is why I said it: Dave Ramsey.
I’m breaking this off… now.
You were all charm, cad. You–ever so gently–stirred a little threat in with your honey, even in your parting words. If your tone hadn’t been so sweet, your parting words about “try to get good rewards with your debit card” would have sounded oh-so bitter.
Well, I’ve got news for you, pal. I’m not switching to no debit cad. I’m done with cads. My new BFF is cash: cold, hard, and honest. You may regret me, but I certainly don’t regret you.
I just can’t believe how long I’ve let you string me along.