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Life has a habit of making the easy desperately difficult, and the hardest choices so easy as to be no choice at all.
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Much of that afternoon remains an intense blur: Maybe extremes of pleasure and pain are just too much for the memory to handle, which is why we forget.
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I think I'd convinced myself that all long-term relationships end up that way; I really thought I had no right to expect more.
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Monochrome contentment or technicolor roller-coaster? No contest, is it?
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Our break-up had been a resounding anti-climax. I wanted to be wept over, bitterly. I wanted to be fought for. Mourned, or regretted just a little. I wanted to feel like I was someone who'd been worth having in the first place.
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Music from my iPod was setting my life to a dramatic soundtrack that only I could hear.
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Oh yes, We've all danced to this particular tune at one time in our lives. In my experience, the majority of women are hopeless romantics, believing that, in time, he'll realise how wonderful we are, and fall in love with us....
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I needed reassurance from the doubts that were beginning to surface in my mind since I'd first given voice to them in conversation with Amy.
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I realised I was tiring of our games, fed up with trying to second guess his motives, weary of trying to hold myself aloof so that I wouldn't lose face.
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It stung this new rejection, but it was also a relief to put an end to the ambiguity and incertitude. I had been deceiving myself the day I decided I could master the art of detachment, or maybe the mistake was to allow things to go on in that vein for as long as they had.
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By writing this, knowing that there was a chance he'd read it, i was up to my old tricks. Was I not sending an open letter hoping for some kind of response, in return?
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You need to decide what works for you. But ultimately, hold out for adoration and respect
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I do still love you. I don't love you enough to be able to give you the things we dreamed about and planned.
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I want to build you a house with my bare hands and carry you over the threshold. I want too cook for you every evening and bring you tea in bed in the mornings. I want to read with you in front of an open fire, sipping a glass of wine. I want to drive you to the beach and lie next to you in the sun. I may not be a man of means, bit I want to take care of you as best I can.
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Any new French female acquaintance would most likely have held herself aloof, eyeing you suspiciously until she had assessed your character and whether or not you posed a threat.
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Isn't this more about how two people can read a situation in two completely different ways? I've been resisting the urge to build castles in the air, like I always do, and you just saw whatever it was that you wanted to see.
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I know he isn't a serious candidate for anything long-term. Or even medium-term. But maybe that's precisely why he's so attractive to me, right now. Unsuitable is good. Temporary is good...
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One unforeseen advantage of having a child was that it gave me the excuse to talk to myself to my heart's content and pretend it was for my daughters benefit.
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I wondered then if there could ever be trust in a relationship based from the outset upon deceiving other people.