The Meeting

The meeting came and went. Dinner was tense but palatable. Back to her place.

"I want you to know that I can't see you anymore," she said. I understood. And agreed.

"I feel silly asking you this but, can we have one last shag? To end where we began - to go full circle?" she asked. "No," I said.

I turned down sex. I'm still having a hard time believing that I declined a fuck. There must be some way for me to convince myself that it was for the best. We hugged once but she pushed me away for once last embrace. It was for the best. I hate what she said - the last thing she said. "So not only do you not feel for me like I feel for you but you reject my body too." Or something like that.

I was so relieved when I drove away. I felt like crying too. I do love her but, for whatever reason, I never fell in love with her. It makes me sad to have hurt her and it makes me sad to see how she puts herself down, how little she thinks of herself at times. This too shall pass. In time I suppose we'll both look back on our stint together fondly and chortle at the negatives of it all as we see how they've dwindled.

It's done and I think that's what really counts. There's no other women in the bullpen, so to speak. I suppose in a couple years I'll meet one, though, and the cycle can start all over again.