It's Just Lunch

They say meeting for coffee is a good way to check somebody out, decide if you’ve got a future together so we started with that. It didn’t go so great. First impressions told me you weren’t really my style, a little prissy, old-fashioned even, but you’d obviously taken great care with your appearance, spent a lot of time getting ready, so I felt I owed you a fair shot.

Things were stilted. Painfully awkward. And your taste in music - gah. I figured we’d just leave it at the once.

But it’s a small town here, and the talent pool is shallow. I passed you on Main Street a few times, wondered how things were going. Somebody I know mentioned you the other day, talked about how great you were.  I thought maybe it was worth one more try. I checked and you were open to it. So, lunch.

We didn’t even get to the main course and I knew this wasn’t happening. My mind was open, your intentions were good but, I couldn’t find anything to like. In fact, my indifference from the first date was turning to downright irritation.  Why couldn’t you just be - what I want? Better. Brighter, hipper, not having to try so hard?

I know I’m no more important to you than the next guy, but we could’ve been a thing. I could be so good for you - loyal, generous. I would’ve been proud to tell the whole world what I’d found with you.

I need something in my life, I admit it. Not some fantasy deal - I don't want that kind of pressure. No airs and graces, just a go-to, day-in-day-out relationship.

And comfortable enough to take a break when we need it. There’s others over the river, fancy city types even. But I wanted to keep it local, isn’t that what we’re supposed to do these days?

Well, screw it, I tried. But frankly, you suck. I know you hardly know me, and you seem to be doing fine without me in your life. But this is it - you won’t see me again.

Local cafe, I’m breaking up with you.