Alas, the affair has ended. I mourn the loss of the wavy hair; the melodious, lilting accent; the witty, intellectual banter abounding in allusion and metaphor. I’m still drawn to him. I still think of him. I would give anything to write like him. I have come, however, to the end of my love affair with Mark Steyn. I am simply not strong enough. I lack the strength to read his commentaries and listen to him on the radio because, quite frankly, he depresses me.

Really, Mark, I have enough problems with my own family’s economy. I am much too overwhelmed to read week after week in your column how very much money our government is spending and how completely broke my children’s generation will be. You make it sound like doomsday, like total collapse, like no food for my future grandchildren. There is never any good news. Where is the good news? I know I should be brave. I’m sure I should put my trust in God to take care of us and my trust in Steyn to change the way things work with his influential words.  I’m just so incredibly sad.

So, I’m begging, Mark, because I want to be enthralled by your words once again, would you please just write something pleasant, just once? Pretty please with a plump cherry on top? I’d like to be happy with our affair again, and for this torment I am not strong enough.