Lost Connections

My Dearest Connections,

When the New York Times introduced you to me, it was love at first sight. Sixteen words to sort into four common groups?! Categories that challenged my mind instead of my body?! You sounded so good on paper. While I was already in a committed relationship with Wordle, I couldn’t deny my feelings for you.

At first, we were a perfect match. You gave me a rainbow of choices and let me take my time until I was sure. On the day you put Fantasy, Frontier, Adventure, and Tomorrow in the grid, my heart soared. I knew what you were thinking—Disneyland Lands! It was obvious we were meant to be. It was later that night when I pre-named our children Webster and Roget and bought Genie Plus tickets.

I believed you would never ever disappoint me. And then, it happened. You just got weird—you and your kinky word pairings. Animal names spelled backwards? Words that included names of musical instruments plus the letter A? Food slang for head?!

That’s when I realized, you are one sick yppup*.

I thought we understood each other in the most literal way, but I can’t read your mind. I stuck around longer than I should have because I thought you would start making some sense. But we didn’t speak the same love language. And there were too many days you made me doubt myself as an English major.