I think it’s time we started to see others. Things just aren’t working out.
Now, I know you’re expecting me to next say that it’s not you, it’s me. But I’m not going to.
When we met, I told you that I was interested in a long distance relationship. My life, I said, had me always on the run. But I was serious about seeing you, about us being together. I’m active, and love the outdoors — and these were things that you said you loved, too. I know that some of your friends tell you that I only want to be with you because you’re white, but that’s just not true — I’m totally down with the brown.
We sounded like a good match. Early on, I found myself missing you so very much. When we were apart, you were all I thought about — when I’d see you next, how we’d spend our time together, what great adventures life would bring us.
But it didn’t take long for me to begin to feel that being with you was slowly eating away at my very sole. I’d long for us to be together, but when we were reunited, I’d start to wonder what I ever saw in you. Days with you often left me feeling as if you’d ripped a chunk of flesh out of me. And you’re abrasive — being with you often feels like I’ve been spending time with a cheese grater.
And I’ll be the first to admit — life can be hard. But even after all the blood and sweat and tears, when the paths we choose in life turn out to be harder than expected, I need someone who will be able to hold it all together, not someone who will come apart at the seams.
At our points in life, relationships should be about adventure and exploration and enjoying the better things in life, not pain and misery and some dreaded sense of being slowed down. It should be about chasing adventure, not sitting this one out.
I need someone who will go the distance with me. And that’s not you. Maybe you should try dating a walker.
PS — You stink. Seriously — you smell really, really bad.