You have just expressed to me in an email that you "cannot wait to see what the future holds for us." I want to tell you, but my ability to communicate candidly has dwindled due to eleven years of masturbating silently in the bedroom next to my parents.
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As for that which awaits us in the future, I can only base my hypothesis on past experiences, so please bear with me.
If memory serves me right, for six to eight months we will be in love and enjoy great times: sex will be extraordinary, travel will be adventurous, and longing will fill our hearts. Following that blissful period, I will start to get restless. I will pick out something that I dislike about you and focus on it until it consumes me. I will cease cooking for you, I will loathe sleeping next to you, and I will be mean to your animals. Then, I will psychologically dismantle you.
First, I will drop hints about your eating habits, and I will always eat salad in front of you to encourage the same. I will exercise more, and challenge you to competitive sports such as basketball and tennis where I will further demean you and belittle your sense of worth.
Second, I will begin to alienate your friends. One by one, I will single them out after too much wine, embarrass them, hurt their feelings, and/or make them stop seeing us together. Usually, this happens fairly quickly, and they will try to convince you to leave me, but you won’t be able to since you “love” me and “know that I am a better person than that.”
And the worst part is it is true; I was much nicer and more polite. However, that was before I became fixated on whatever it is that I am focusing on. In the past it has been a labia (major), misshaped earlobes, and scruffy chin hair. But, since you have none of these, I will have to look hard to pick something out about you that I hate. So maybe we’ll last for nine or ten months..., who knows?
Anyway, third, as if the first and second attempts to get you to leave me weren't enough, I will stop calling and see you only reluctantly. Unless, however, I have been at happy hour too long and the waitress was young and hot; then I may have to come over and tap your ass while thinking of her. I shall remain true to my word, though, and I will not cheat on you. But I will think about infidelity a lot, and I will remind you of it when I do see you. This could go on for months, but hopefully you will see through my veiled attempts at hating you and break up with me before it gets too bad. The last three weren't so successful.
So, my dear, while presently I may be the well-mannered, loving, caring, and endearing "Baltimoron" that you love so deeply and cherish so much, it is fleeting. Or at least it has been.
I hope this pattern does not repeat itself. I really don't want to hurt you. At 28, it is time for me to consider actually allowing someone to love me and care for me. Further, I may want to impregnante you so that I can't leave.
Damn Catholic school...
I love you, too (for now?).