Nearly two years. That’s how long I pursued you.
Why you gave in barely before I got that degree and took that job, I don’t know. Why we gave in over and over until I left (And the one time I came through while moving,) I don’t know.
I don’t know.
It’s got a new feeling to it. It’s a feeling I wasn’t used to, until you.
I can fix anything. Solve any problem. It’s what I do. People know me for that. It’s who I am. Well, except that one thing: Us.
I know why I gave in. You were exactly what I was looking for. Absolutely beautiful. Incredibly intelligent. Distinctly you. And creative, even though you won’t admit it. And even a damn good kisser. I believe I dictated that over and over (when you’d let me catch a breath.)
I sat with you while you vented your complaints about other men. Voiced your worries about the future. Admitted your faults and weaknesses. Assuaged your fears and built up your confidence. I thought “I finally have a story to cheer up the “nice guys” with. A success story. Showing that, if we sat by to comfort you after the jackasses and the tweet about a one night stand (thanks for that,) we could finally get exactly what we had always hoped for.
I just wish I could understand your thoughts, your emotions. I can read others clearly and react in a way they want, it’s what helped get me where I am. You’re the exception.
Basically, the point I am trying to communicate is this: I need an explanation of what you were thinking. What you were feeling. A real one. You can claim all day that “You don’t know” or you can trail of with something about a “fear of commitment..”
Well this is it. I call your bluff. Tell me. I can’t… I won’t move on until you do.
-AMArillo By Mornin’