It’s over. Finished, kaput, fin.
I know I haven’t given you a blow-by-blow of the last month, so let me do that now.
He has called me every day, and asked for permission to call the next day.
He is in love, calls me his precious, his love, and tells me I’m more beautiful every time he sees me.
He wants to be married in a year, maybe.
I do not give my heart so easily. I like him. I appreciate his attentions, but am in no way shape or form in love. To be completely frank, the last time he told me I was beautiful I accused him of intoxication (In my defense, I’d been at work for 8 hours and was having one of those bloated uncomfortable “omg I’m a TROLL” days).
Neither am I ready to speak of marriage.
For a few brief moments, I felt badly that I didn’t return his sentiment. I do LIKE the guy, after all.
Guilt is a horrible foundation for a relationship, and I did indeed feel guilty about not being as ready as he is to commit.
Last night I tried again to explain to him that I felt as much, and found that it’s not about me, it’s about him. He kept kissing me and wouldn’t let me speak. I tried to push him away so I could speak, and he wouldn’t release me.
It’s frustrating enough with the language and cultural differences, but to think that kisses can change my mind is naive at best.