Tomorrow I am paying off the balance that we have shared for almost 10 years. You lured me into your gingerbread house of credit with warm & fuzzy promises of low interest rates and new shoes. But we were not meant to be.
I know I am fabulous and work hard and my next big promotion is right around the corner (reality check - it's not) so I deserve some perks to save me from going mad. I've said it before, I can justify almost anything. But I am happy to see this end.
I went through college watching Carrie Bradshaw in all of her Manolo glory. Fiscally responsible, she was not. But she was fabulous. And when it came to paying rent or taking a vacation you let me say "why not both?"
Ah, the good times. And here I am, on the brink of 30... and you are still here.
But things have changed. Your interest rates went up. And now you are going to charge me for NOT using you. So just like the crap-tacular college boyfriend I outgrew, it's time to call it quits. At least I know you won't drunk dial me. (I hope.) And there won't be one of those "it's not you... it's me" speeches because this time it IS you.
As of this week, I have moved on. I'm moving you out of my wallet and into a considerably less fashionable filing cabinet. And that's only if I don't decide to have you canceled and shredded. So behave.
Sayonara,
Danielle
PS: Visa, watch out.
