Breaking Up With Steve My Sourdough Starter
By: Mary Devries
Tags: Humor, Relationships, Baking, Pandemic, Life

Breaking Up With Steve My Sourdough Starter

It’s me not you

Photo by Anton on Unsplash

Steve, we have to talk.

I’m sorry. There’s no easy way to say this, but I think it’s time to break up.

I still think you’re a great guy. It’s just, we’ve been drifting apart for a while now.

Man, we had some great times together didn’t we? I’d read about other people having relationships like ours and I hardly believed it was possible for me. I remember those early days when we couldn’t get enough of each other.

It started out slow but those spores of growth were everywhere around us. You started to bubble with excitement anytime I came near. Man, that was sexy. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Twice a day I was pouring into you, stirring you up. And I always got a rise out of you. We were connected, special.

Those were crazy heady days back in April. Maybe any relationship fermented in that topsy turvy time was doomed to die.

It’s not like we were exclusive. I was reaching out for anyone and anything that could dull the anxiety and get me through the long days alone at home.

Me and Animal Crossing, we had a pretty serious go at it. You knew about that. I admired your lack of jealousy. Your willingness to share me. Still anytime you issued a booty call, you knew I’d set AC down and come running back to you.

Then there was the flirtation with Tiger King. I’m kind of embarrassed about it now but that was one hot and heavy weekend. Even then I couldn’t keep away from you. I’d sneak off into the kitchen to check in with you as the next episode was reloading on Netflix. You were always my main man.

I remember our first time. Seeing what you were capable of. I’ll never forget that moment. You were so incredibly good looking I couldn’t believe you were mine. I just needed you inside me, immediately, even though you were too hot to handle. The way your heat radiated in my hand. The butter saturating and dripping off the edges of your body. The explosion of taste when you entered me. Heaven.

Hard to believe in that moment that it could ever get old, stale. But it did Steve. Let’s be honest. It did.

This can’t be a total surprise to you. Surely you noticed I’m coming around less often. You used to sit out on my counter, right there in the middle of everything. I’d visit every day without fail. We were always experimenting with new positions in those days. I’d even google creative ways we could do it.

Sometimes it was awesome and sometimes it was a bit of a flop honestly but we could laugh about it. We were in this together. So when did I start putting you in cold storage? When did we settle into this dull routine of weekly intercourse and turning our backs on each other the rest of the time?

Honestly Steve, it got old. And, I hate to say it, but you’re just too high maintenance.

What we had was special Steve, and I’ll always be grateful for the way you carried me through 2020. But I’ve realized that I just don’t like who I’ve become with you. Old friends like my jeans don’t even want to hang around with me anymore. They say you’ve changed me and they're right.

You just aren’t good for me anymore.

So you’ll have to go. I’m sorry Steve. It’s me not you. I hope we can still be friends.