I know I let you down.
We had a connection.
You praised my brain more than my body.
You spoke in articulate, calculated sentences, just like I did.
You were a soul mate, someone who had already taken risks, at the time, that I only dreamed of.
But you weren’t perfect, and neither was I.
You made plans and broke them when I was almost done getting ready.
You changed your mind to go back to the initial plans after my makeup came off and my sweatpants.
Things with us happened slowly – very slowly.
Then, suddenly, there was an escalation that left me with more questions than answers.
I knew as much about you as you knew about me.
What you didn’t know is that I’ve spent my entire life being held back.
I feared that we were going down that road and just taking too long to get there.
I was definitely not your girlfriend.
We didn’t speak every day and we didn’t see each other often enough for me to think that.
You met some friends of mine who were important to me.
They really liked you, and I saw how you fit in perfectly with our group of people from all walks of life and diverse backgrounds.
But I couldn’t do that anymore; I couldn’t be a ghost girlfriend who melts with her smile but has nothing to cling to.
You were special and important to me, but I couldn’t get any closer to an indefinite nothing after months of going around in circles.
As the “shy and nice girl”, I realized that if you liked me enough, you would bring up the “what are we” conversation.
But those words were never spoken.
Honestly, I was embarrassed.
We were suspended in a hazy circle of dating purgatory, and for some reason, this infuriated me.
I’m usually easygoing and carefree about dating, but with you, I felt impatient and restless.
Part of that was because it was several months of confusion, and part of it was because I made the mistake of not being bold enough to ask what was going on.
However, an undeniable part of the problem was that I was losing track of what drew me to you and all the things that kept me curious about your heart and brain.
It just wasn’t working for me anymore.
I did something that I resent others; I childishly allowed myself to get fed up without expressing my frustrations and pushed myself to the limit.
The funny thing is, I always felt comfortable as “one of the guys”.
I pair my dresses with combat boots, get excited about sports and beer, and I’ll quote more than is likely appropriate.
But with you, I felt trapped.
I felt like the flirtation had died and I was just a brother with eyelashes.
We were two nice, smart people who got together, and neither of us came forward to be the daring one.
If neither party is even willing to have the courage to ask the uncomfortable and embarrassing but necessary questions, the dynamic is doomed to fail.
Our metaphorical hourglass had few grains of sand left, regardless of what it might have been had we addressed my concerns earlier.
It’s no use playing “what if”; there are only lessons to be learned.
Maybe our snail’s step involved too much anticipation and too little action, or maybe the spark just burned.
Our power had been off for weeks when our flame went out completely.
The fact that our relationship is over doesn’t make any of us bad or undesirable, and it doesn’t mean we should stop being good.
We just don’t work for each other.
The only regret I have is that I didn’t give him an explanation – not that I had one at the time.
I didn’t understand my anger or frustration, which was masking the underlying humiliation that made me feel unworthy of you to mention the “we” status.
There was never a solitary reason; it was the culmination of things.
In the end, we just don’t work.
It was immature of me, but that doesn’t mean my feelings weren’t real and genuine.
Breaking up wasn’t a stupid move, but the way I handled it was.
Verbal communication is so important, and for a writer, I was able to contain myself verbally.
I always wanted to say I’m sorry, but after a family emergency that changed my home life forever, I was out of sync with the outside world at a time when it would make sense to mend the damage.
You were a perplexed witness to a crime scene: a theft of closure and the truth.
Under any other circumstances, we would have been able to remain friends, to get together and recover some groundwork under the rubble.
Sometimes shit happens.
It is not contempt against you or me; is that it didn’t work out, romantically or not.
Wherever you are in the world, I hope you find something and someone that works for you.
We both deserve it.
I wish you the best.