Welcome to the New Yorker Radio Hour. I'm David Remnick.

Today I'm going to talk with a writer who, for my money, is one of a kind, my teacher, my colleague, and my occasional fishing buddy, John McPhee.

But first we have something to attend, something solemn.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, in the park, to inadvertently witness the dramatic

breakup of these two people we have never met, Jamie and Aaron.

If anyone has any empathy at all, please now avert your eyes and hurry past.

At this time, the couple would like to share a few words that they have always wanted to say

and soon will never be able to take back.

Jamie, in the past two and a half years, you've become my best friend, my confidant,

and today you now become a future stranger.

As I stand here, I can't help but to think back to the beginning,

when we were both so much more attractive.

You gave me a new outlook on alcohol and an excuse to not exercise. Six months ago,

I popped the question, is this even working anymore? And it was then that I knew that I wanted

to eventually forget your middle name. I realized that I wanted to celebrate your losses and to tell our mutual friends of my successes in the hopes that they would share them with you.

Aaron, I promise always to put you first when listing my exes in alphabetical order.

I promise to delete all evidence of you from my social media accounts.

Even the photos you aren't in, but were there when they were taken.

I promise never to forget that passing comment you made about my upper arm flap

and to use it to make mutual friends take my side in this breakup.

Most important, I promise not to learn anything from this relationship and to continue to fail

future partners in similar ways.

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