Dear Apartment Complex,

After five of the longest years of my life, I now have the strength to stand up to you, raise my hand, and say, “No more.” You have controlled my life for half a decade as you stole out of my checkbook each month, ignored my basic needs, and treated me like a child. I will be sending for my stuff, you can keep your deposit (you’ll nickel-and-dime me to death, anyway), and I relish the thought that karma will eventually collapse your structure to the ground in an attempt by God to rectify His one and only mistake.

I have no fear, apartment complex, that you will find someone to fill the two-bedroom, two-bathroom rental on the corner near the stairs on the second floor, across the street from the CATS and LSU bus stop. I am sure that even the apartment number, 13, will easily attract a new tenant. Although I will be vacating my premises in July, I won’t be offended if you start trolling for a new tenant now, because I know that you can’t function with that sort of emptiness in your life. I just ask that you not show off your new beau in front of me before I have a chance to leave, as I will be extending the same courtesy.

I know, apartment complex, that we have had our good times. I remember fondly the times I got to kayak in the pool and eat free pizza in your office, the way that for a year the washer and dryer were free because they were broken, and how I could always depend on you for a free cookie when I was hungry in your office. You even cared enough to post emergency information before Katrina and Gustav, showing you worried about my well-being. You were such a good provider. But you always had a dark side, and lately, you have been neglecting me more and more. I want, need, and deserve more, and you can no longer deliver.

When we first started our relationship, I was trying to get my life back together at LSU. You were there, nice and close to school, Johnny-on-the-spot. I overlooked the fact that the internet you promised me was several months late. I even looked the other way as my cabinets started to separate from the ceiling and began to drop.

By the time you fixed that, I wanted more space in my life. You were a loving and caring partner, allowing me to upgrade to the bigger apartment three doors down with the musty, unused smell and questionable carpet stains. I once again wrote it off as part of your quirkiness as you kept the original deposit. But life was good and I just accepted it.

I am tired of ignoring your little immature activities that you want to sweep under the rug, apartment complex. I tried to maintain my composure when you posted a note on my door, telling me I owed an additional $350 deposit when I moved in. You told me you were just joking, and that you wanted to make sure I signed all my leasing forms. You introduced doubt and lack of trust, and over the years, you reinforced that thought.

I wanted to pull my hair out after you closed my pool for the summer because one of your scorned lovers poured paint in another one of your pools. Couldn’t you trust me? Couldn’t you at least honor your end of our contract and allow me access to one of your other two pools? What did I do to deserve your scorn and punishment? Did I not pay you each and every month? I’m sorry I didn’t love you more to keep you from treating me like your misbehaving little child.

I know that you always like to look so cool with the newest gadgets, the wireless internet with the receivers and all that equipment, and the laundry cards. Did you have to upgrade your laundry machines to take the cards? Did you have to become the mean parent in a vain attempt to control our money by issuing laundry cards? Not only that, you hid the machine in your office (that’s closed when 90% of the tenants want to wash clothes) and made it impossible to wash. I guess you shouldn’t have been jealous when we were unfaithful to you and went to Cyclone Laundry and let them touch our unmentionables. You could have trusted us to be more honest with the laundry. I trusted you to make sure the machines worked, and you seemed to fail at that, too…

Remember the A/C incident? I do. I remember the week of the soaking wet carpet in the hallway when you couldn’t and wouldn’t fix it. You were supposed to be my partner, my helper, but instead, you took my money and ignored me. I had to go to your parent company in order to get it fixed, and even they called you “ghetto.” I should have seen the writing on the wall when your parent called you that, but I still had a bit of love for you, a shred of respect, and dare I say, a piece of me told me that you would change for me. How wrong I was.

The excuses you gave me are lame, and I can’t take it anymore. I understood when I saw you going into someone else’s apartment to fix their problems. I’m not the jealous type. Really. The sheetrock and caulk on your collar and the smell of Freon on your breath as you sauntered in to fix my A/C and sink never sent me over the edge, as long as you got the job done.

I really could have done it myself, but we agreed when we entered this relationship that you would take care of me. You failed. When I called first thing in the morning to get you to recharge my A/C unit, and when the office was closing eight hours later, you gave me nothing but lines. When I called you every day for a week about my running toilet, you rattled off excuse after excuse. When I called and begged you to fix my leaking A/C and soaking wet carpet, you belted out your usual litany of excuses. And when you came over to look at the collapsing tiles in my shower, you had the audacity to mouth off excuses to my face.

I remember some of my favorites (and not-so-favorites):

1. •It’ll be fixed by the end of the day.
   

2. •Your maintenance request is in the computer.
   

3. •The maintenance computer isn’t tied to our computer.
   

4. •The maintenance guy has left for the day and he lives in Baker.
   

5. •The internet guy only comes twice a week.
   

6. •I don’t know when it’ll be fixed.
   

7. •They told me to just cover it with caulk and wait for you to move out to fix it.
   

8. •Air-conditioning not working (in August) isn’t considered an emergency.
   

9. •You: We told you that we are towing cars that are parked in your lot to the other lot so we can paint stripes on Thursday.
   

10. Me: It’s Tuesday.
    

11. You: We decided to do it today, so go walk and get your car. It’s not my problem.
    

12. •What do you expect? You live in our ghetto properties.
    

13. •You have to sign this (the waiver on the five-day move-out notice) to live here. You wouldn’t want a drug dealer to live next to you, would you?
    

14. •That was the past property owners. (It has been under the same ownership for the five years I have lived here.)
    

15. •Our maintenance manager was fired and forgot to fix your A/C (after calling every day for a week telling them the water was pooling in my hallway).
    

16. •I can’t believe that you are reading your lease. Just sign it here, here, initial here, and sign here.
    

17. •Our rent is keeping up with the market here in Baton Rouge. (At 420 units, we were the second-largest apartment in town at the time, and owned by the largest renter in the city – you set the market price, not follow it.)
    

18. •Take all of your dishes out of the cabinet that is falling down and put them under the cabinet, and we will get to it soon.
    

19. •(Two months after the above excuse) It’s still on the maintenance list, and we’ll get to it after we take care of the requests of everyone else that moved in after you.
    

20. •Me: When will it be fixed?
    

21. You: I don’t know.
    

22. Me: Hours, by the end of the day, week, month…?
    

23. You: I don’t know.
    

24. •(After the pool was lime green for a month) We ordered a pump.
    

Before you start your typical mud-slinging, I want you to know that I went above and beyond the call of just a tenant. Over the years, I have painted the kitchen, changed countless light bulbs, replaced filters on a regular basis, hung brand-new ceiling fans, and even retiled the kitchen. I upgraded with stuff that I cannot bring with me and will leave with you, not that you will notice or care. If you did, you would charge the newcomer more rent, because that’s just the way you are.

But to show you that I am not a bitter ex, I want to give you a few tips on how to be a better partner in the future, so you won’t get so many of these letters.

We can start with personal hygiene. You can’t just do a comb-over when the freshmen come a-running, looking to you for a place to crash. This year, the blue tarps are a big turn-off, but I will vouch for you. I will let the new tenant know, if you want, that the roof is good, and more shingles blew off our roof during Katrina than in Gustav, and the tarp is just to cover up the 20-year-old shingles that need to be replaced more from old age than from storm damage.

I would, however, try to hide the back buildings that got severe roof damage and were gutted, as they now look like abandoned projects, as if you tried to recreate the slums in back GSRI Road near Gardere. The broken windows and open, abandoned refrigerators won’t attract the girls, even if you mention that it opens up more parking for the few remaining, habitable buildings. What they will attract are homeless vagrants and crack dealers, but then again, as long as they pay rent...

While on the subject of personal hygiene, I know that we all like our partners to be well-groomed, with short grass to play on. However, you are the most anal when it comes to this department. Do you really need the yard crew out here at 6 a.m. to start mowing and blowing outside my window? Is that some sort of cruel punishment? What did I do to deserve this? They are here several times a week, on weekends, and for some reason, still here when I get home at the end of the day. I admit you look good, but that is a lot of maintenance for short grass for the dogs to crap on. But for all that trimming, the pool leaves so much to the imagination…

Lime-green pool for the summer months (March through November) is anything but sexy. If you are going to keep it that color, let me know. I’ll get Wildlife and Fisheries to stock it so we can go fishing on the weekends from the laundry room. Otherwise, fix it during the summer. We can handle the pool getting green during the winter months, but not all year. I suggest an upgrade on that tired old pool, and try getting some parts that don’t involve a two-month ship time or have a lifespan of a month before breaking. Maybe fill in the pool and lay some sand out for volleyball and fix the beer pong table out there. Remember, sand volleyball and beer pong tables are the new trash tat on the small of the back of a hip apartment complex, and a functioning exercise room is the navel ring. Just a suggestion.

In the future, I would kindly suggest an attitude adjustment. Take a page from your more senior maintenance crew. They are friendly, tell it like it is, and are the kind of guys I would invite over for a beer as they look at my sink. I can describe the problem to them in ten words, and they know what needs to be fixed, while your office staff has the doe-in-the-headlights look after a half-hour of trying to draw out the maintenance problem to them on paper and using small words. I would rather deal with the maintenance crew then deal with your office minions.

I’m sorry if the office staff are aspiring business majors, or if this is the only job they could find, but I leave your office over half of the time with a sour taste in my mouth from them. I feel like I am talked down to by your staff, and although I make twice as much as they do at my internship, I would never talk to my clients (or coworkers) in such a manner.

It’s odd that you seem to treat your tenants with disdain and hatred, as if we cause you to do your freaking job, when we are the ones telling our neighbors and friends about you. We talk you up to others looking around because, frankly, the hot trim on Highland on the other side of campus from you looks a lot better than you. They have flat-screen TVs, walking distance to school and bars, tanning booths, and an exercise room that really works (nothing upstairs works), and actually look like it’s nice and not being held up with duct tape and gum. I’m sorry it hurts, but it’s about time we be honest with each other. Those younger models can run circles around you, and only your exes can drum up the word to get new tenants over to you, so be a little nicer to us in the office. Remember, I really do pay for your salary.

I’m sorry it had to come to this, but I’ve grown. You haven’t. It’s not me, it’s you. I remember when I would drive by and everyone wanted to be in you, but nowadays, you are old and tired, and people talk behind your back about how everyone’s been in you. I’m embarrassed to say I am with you now, and I deserve better. Maybe a facelift here, a tummy tuck there, and a fresh coat of paint, and you can make it through another few seasons, but you are now that girl at the end of the bar that’s 25 years old, trolling Reggie’s for whoever’s new and has never heard the stories of her escapades…

Good luck to you, and keep well and safe. Maybe we can exchange awkward glances and forced small talk when I drive by after moving away.

I’ll always remember the good times,

Holden Wright