So this is goodbye.

I know, we probably should have done this in person, or even over the phone, but now that the year’s winding down, it just can’t wait any longer. Look at it this way: At least I’m not ending it by e-mail, text or instant message. I figured we shouldn’t delay the inevitable, so print will have to do.

We’ve had a good four-year run, so of course I’ll miss you. But let’s be honest, gaYale, I’m only 22 years old and you’re over 300. I thought we could get past the severe granddaddy complex (or more accurately great-great-great-granddaddy), but you’ve got 300 years of “tradition” under your belt, and I’m a modern ’mo.

We have Pride in all things unsacred, and you’ve got an entire school devoted to sacred music, not to mention an enclave of semi-cloistered divinity ’mos. That 300-years of tradition is 300-years of baggage I just can’t compete with.

Let’s face it Yale, you were closeted for centuries. And I know you’ve been out and proud for awhile now, but we had our sexual awakenings in different decades. Even a Sonny and Cher obsession seems outdated compared in the contemporary culture of Britney and Justin, but you’ve got old playlists of Gregorian Chant on your i-pod.

You’ve got major history, and a horde of history majors; I, on the other hand, majored in drama (in both senses of the word).

Besides, I’ve just begun to explore my relationship to relationships, and you already have an impressive list of ex-boyfriends. I’m incredibly jealous of what you had with Cole Porter. And I’ve known for a while that you and Larry Kramer never really ended it. In fact, rumor has it, Larry’s leaving you quite a bit in his will. But I have to say, I never understood your fling with Claire Danes.

And George Bush is the elephant in our living room.

I can’t believe you still associate with him. And you let him toss your name around like you’re some kind of two-bit-ho he conquered. Plus he says horrible things about me and my friends.

We all know you only agreed to date him because his parents set you up, but he’s still there in our living room after seven years. I know, I know it’s not entirely your fault. Still, I can’t help but blame you because you refuse to disavow him. If there was a Yale donkey living in our living room, we might be able to work something out. But I can’t stand elephants.

You and I have grown in different directions, toward different expectations. And I’m sorry, but size matters … I just crave something bigger than the package you provide. You’re a city person, which gets us halfway. But I need a Big City, someone who can go all the way. And I know you’re trying to grow, you’ve done everything possible. I get all sorts of e-mails that discuss your efforts to increase your size by almost 20 percent! Which is an admirable endeavor. But you and I both know that all your research and efforts toward the two extra “residential colleges” might not yield tangible results. And if they do, it won’t be for another 20 years at least. But I can’t wait around that long, and I’m just not satisfied with your limited … scope.

And in 20 years, just when you’ve grown into something larger, I’ll finally be ready to settle down for something more intimate, perhaps with a summer home in Massachusetts. And yes, Harvard still lives in Massachusetts, and I know it pains you to hear that I could ever reside in the realm of the enemy. But, I can’t protect your feelings anymore. Better I put it all out on the table now so you don’t hear it from someone else in 20 years time. You’ll never leave Connecticut, and frankly a civil union just isn’t good enough for me.

So it’s time for me to explore new horizons.

And no, there isn’t another University. I know that’s the way a lot of people have ended it with you, jumping into the open arms of another institution. But I’m different than those other skanks. I’m keeping my options open, sure, but for now I just need some time to be single, out on my own. Yes, I’ve been tempted by other opportunities, but I’ve always been loyal. Well, except for that semester I spent in London — but we were on a break!

When we got into this, we both knew it had an expiration date, in fact we preferred it that way. So we have to honor that. I want you to know that I’ll always be nearby if you need me. And yes, eventually I will have new employers and new educators, but that doesn’t mean you and I can’t be friends.

We cannot, however, continue to hang out every day. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to be one of those people who clings to the relationship long after it devolves into a security blanket. We both deserve better than that; hell, we don’t even have class together anymore. And I don’t think you even noticed, but I stopped going to section a year ago.

I mean, I could spend two more years just sleeping in your apartments at night and working in your labs during the day, but it would feel empty and artificial. So I have to make a clean break. I don’t even think we can be the kind of friends who have lunch once a week, because that would just bring up too many old memories. But once or twice a year couldn’t hurt, right?

So, let’s just end it before things get too complicated, while we can still look back fondly on the good things we shared:

Bar on Tuesdays. Hula Hanks on Wednesdays. York Street Cafe on Thursdays. Oracle on Fridays. When we were feeling frisky, maybe even Gotham on Saturdays. And I always found your coy silence on Sundays and Mondays amusing, and honestly a little refreshing. There’s only so much of each other that we can handle without driving each other nuts.

The honeymoon first couple of years. The roller coaster junior semester. And then our passionate reunion after I left you for that other school. The Co-op dance. The GPSCY parties. The theater. The drama. The drama school students. The staxxx. Getting drunk and naked in the library. Getting drunk and naked at The Game. Getting drunk and naked at Pundits parties. Hell, getting drunk and naked just about everywhere. Those late-night “cram” sessions. The tantrically long papers. We had some good times.

But now it’s time to say “goodbye.” Promise you’ll keep in touch.

Chad Callaghan and gaYale will always have New Haven.