Dear Starbucks,

I’ve been thinking about this all morning; I’m sure you have been, too. It’s funny the little things finally do a relationship in. After all the mishaps we’ve had, who would have thought that a little passive-aggressive exchange on 23rd Street would be our final moment? There’s no winning me back this time, Starbucks, but before I say goodbye for good, let’s take a trip down memory lane and point out why you—yes, you, not me—got us here.

I was eight the first time I stepped into a Starbucks. (I’d already been drinking café con leche on “cold” Miami mornings for a few years.) My mom and I were in Virginia for the summer and she wanted to see what Starbucks was all about. It was a frenzied first experience filled with options in a language (Starbuckese) that I had yet to learn. I ordered a mocha Frappuccino and really didn’t care for it. But, I loved the novelty of the experience, how nice the baristas were and all the mysterious yet intriguing menu options—I was hooked. After a few more visits, the barista suggested I try the Frap sans mocha; I found my drink and Starbucks found its place in my heart.

Starbucks kept expanding and eventually made its way down to Miami. I visited more and more often. What I really loved was that Starbucks really cared about me as a customer (slash didn’t want me to notice the ridiculous prices I was paying) so if my drink wasn’t perfect, it would be made right; if I had to wait too long, I scored a free drink coupon.

Even better is that over time, I got to know the baristas at the two locations I frequented most often. When I walked in, I gave the wave and my drink was already in the works…no waiting in line for me.

In college, things remained pretty good between us. I basically moved in to the downtown location. But, I did start to notice that as Starbucks popped up on every corner, the level of care started to slip a bit. Free drink coupons for long waits were almost non-existent and with a larger crew of baristas rotating in and out, it was starting to feel like a chain. However, Starbucks gave me a place to study with the perfect level of noise and distraction, I gave it a large chunk of my monthly budget.

Cut to New York. Upon moving here, I had the immediate guilt of supporting a chain versus a local shop but Starbucks and I had this thing going for so long that I wasn’t ready to move on. And then, I walked in to Starbucks, saw the prices, looked at my bank account and decided I needed to calibrate my habit to my new budget. Starbucks became more of a treat than a regular habit. Except there was nothing about the experience that felt like a treat.

They started changing suppliers and got rid of menu items that were fan favorites (I still miss you reduced-fat cinnamon swirl coffee cake). They started covering the electrical outlets so you couldn’t do work there (so much for being the “third place”—home, work, Starbucks). They stopped teaching employees the language they had made customers learn (when I tell you upside-down, I expect you a) know the short-hand for the cup and b) know the implication for what order you pour the coffee into my drink).

And, worst of all, the service is absolutely abysmal—I’ve been yelled at (literally) by a store manager who didn’t have my catering order ready on time; I’ve been told skim milk had been used, not whole, and my drink was not remade; I’ve been given a different drink, without being told, because they had run out of the right syrup. That’s just what is top-of-mind.

This isn’t just in New York. This has become the standard Starbucks experience everywhere I go—I think it’s time to stop perpetuating my own problem and call it quits.