I’m breaking up with you.
For a moment, you can’t believe your luck. She’s saving you the trouble of it all and doing what you’ve been planning for weeks. But now to look contrite and remorseful. No need to publicize the fact that you’ve known the relationship was more dead than the sushi you had for lunch.
So: “Why, baby?” “What happened?” “Was it something I did?”
I just don’t have time for you, she says. We live so far apart and I’m horrible at communicating. I feel like you deserve something more.
If you’re quiet it’s only because you don’t want to hurt her feelings. After all, you do care. Just not enough to fight this.
You haven’t said anything, she continues. Don’t you think I’m right?
Of course, you reply. I’m sorry it had to be this way.
Except you’re not and despite your best efforts she might know it because here is what she says next:
“You want this, don’t you?”
You’re so witty, you have the ultimate of comebacks. “What?”
You don’t want to be with me either, she states. I can see it all over your face.
Admittedly, you’ve never been the best liar.
Look, you sigh, you’re right. I’m looking for love and it’s not here.
So why didn’t you leave earlier? She asks. Why did you wait so long? Why did you try so hard? You could have saved us both some time.
Because people aren’t finished products. Because people can change, things could get better, and if I can’t love you now, I could love you later.
This is the short answer.
The long one is: Because you’re nice and you’re pretty. You try and I see it. Effort is so attractive. Because I didn’t care enough about this, it wasn’t serious enough, for me to want to end it. Because I leave every time, too early, too soon. Because you don’t love me either and (one asshole to another) we might have been good together.