I’m sorry. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.
When we first met, we both were so giddy at the prospects of our time ahead. There was so much potential for something amazing to happen. I thought about you constantly, planning each and every one of our meetings so that you would feel fulfilled and inspired. But now, even though I still think of you constantly, I feel like it’s a chore, that you have needs I am chronically failing to meet. Perhaps I’ve put you in a box, requiring from you things that keep you from truly being yourself. But frankly, you aren’t being all that there for me either. I feel that you resent when I ask you to do anything. And I am tempted to grade our every encounter.
That’s not the way a relationship should work. We shouldn’t be keeping score–evaluating each other, but we are. There’s no more spark, just a lot of work added to an already full schedule.
It’s not really either of our fault: we’re just not in a good season for us to be in a relationship with summer coming and all. I want to travel, see other people, and not have to think about what I need to do for you. I think you would like the same.
We’re good people. But maybe just not good together. I hope that we’ve both grown from our time together–each of us learning something valuable that we’ll take into the rest of our lives. I’d like to say that if we meet accidentally 10 years from now that I’d remember you, but I probably won’t. But I know that I will take what I’ve learned from you into my next relationship.
I want to say I’m thankful for that.