I gave it another shot.

I know getting back with you was a risky move.  No one supported my decision, and at times, I majorly regretted starting things up again.


Round Two started after I wrote you my letter.  I asked you to make the effort.  And you did.  On a quiet Sunday evening, you phoned me up and asked if I wanted to go for dinner as a date.  You started to say it was fine if I wanted to keep things going as friends but then you told the truth; that wouldn’t be fine – you really wanted me to accept your offer.  You told me you’d changed: you said you realised you had been lazy last time and felt comfortable so stopped making the effort.  This was everything I had wanted to hear all summer.  So we went on our date and things escalated.

As predicted, you were irritating me even from the beginning of Round Two.  But I remained optimistic.  I took a step back, enjoyed us for what we were.  We were having fun and you were making me happy.  I made us happen because I wanted you.  You made us happen because you needed me.

Even our frank conversations helped us to feel closer with one another.  We were honest for the duration of Round Two.  But unfortunately you were in deeper.  You wanted (want?) to spend your life with me; and I wish I wanted that too, but it wasn’t going to work – and I knew that from the beginning.  I’m sorry things ended again, but this really is for the best.  Imagine if we had moved in together and married and had babies…

  • Firstly, my family and friends would have disowned me
  • I’d have driven you crazy
  • You’d have driven me crazy
  • Either  Both of us would have cheated
  • You’d beat me up
  • Our children would be miserable
  • We would be miserable
  • Divorce would be messy
  • I’d have tonnes of debt (of course you’d be living off my salary)
  • We’d be 40 and single
  • And my parents would have said, ‘We told you so’.

A lucky escape for both of us, I reckon.

Selfishly, I had to participate in Round Two; I needed to know my decision was the right one.  Sorry.

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