Is it too cliché to say it’s not you, it’s me? That I just can’t be here right now? I don’t want to be that girl, trust me. But right now, those sentences are the only ones that are making a whole lot of sense.
I can’t love you right now because I need to get my shit together first. I need to stop drinking so much on the weekends and showing up at your house asking if the s’mores are ready. I really need to do laundry that hasn’t been done in weeks because I’m broke and receive a daily e-mail reminder saying that I have “$3.01 available.” I mean, what’s more important? Clean clothing or Ramen?
It really isn’t you. I swear. Although you did say your ex-girlfriend was a little nutty at dinner the other evening, which pissed me off, but it still isn’t you.
I just can’t love you at the moment because of everything that’s happening in my family. Receiving weekly updates from my dad about how the divorce is coming along is hard enough to talk about once – I don’t know if I can do it twice. Going to Chipotle on Sundays to check in on my brother because he’s not speaking to anyone in the family is fucking weird. What’s even worse is seeing his new tattoo sleeve developing on his left arm that is wicked awesome. He used to consult me on his tattoo designs.
See? It’s me. There are too many variables in my life that I just don’t know if I can handle with you. I need to understand how to stand on my own two feet before I begin to trip over yours. Honestly, it would do me some good to find a fucking matching pair of socks, too.
While it’s so interesting listening to you tell stories about your younger years living in Thailand, with drivers and gardeners and butlers, I’m just having a hard time relating watching my childhood home being sold. I know you told me that your parents fight often and sleep in separate beds to comfort me and let me know that “you feel me,” but I’m not sure if that’s the comfort I need, you know?
I want to love you. You’re intelligent, hilarious, attractive, and geeky (but in a sexy Clark Kent kind of way), and letting that slip through my fingers seems like such a damn shame. But, right now, I just can’t love you. Even though it is a little bit you, it’s honestly more me. But I do promise to never lose the fuzzy socks you gave me.