It was love at first sight. I’d heard about her for months, but I didn’t lay eyes on her until I attended a tech conference last October. She was curvy, well-defined. She was the color of smoke, just drop-dead gorgeous. She was unique with her own personality.
And I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. I had to have her.
A few days later, I had the opportunity to ask her out. She agreed – she wasn’t a cheap date by any means, but our first experiences together were wonderful. She enjoyed long walks, spending time with my family, even going to events around town. She enjoyed helping me with projects at work. She was awesome on Christmas morning as together we watched my daughter rip into her presents.
Sure, while we were together in public, we would often get some strange looks. But mostly they were out of curiosity – people would ask questions about her or just want to touch her. I didn’t mind – I wasn’t jealous, I was proud of what I had.
Life was perfect.
But as the months continued, I noticed something. My attachment with her began to wane. We’d be out in public and she’d be ready to go home – it was tough to take her anywhere for more than a couple of hours. We had other issues, of course – she was young and didn’t have the maturity level that I desired.
The relationship became strained. I didn’t call on her as much. I’d go out and would have to force myself to take her with me.
Eventually, it became easier to go by myself.
The weird looks in public had also increased. People’s curiosity and fasciation with her had morphed into distrust. She’d recently made headlines on television, and people were more aware of her. More aware of what she could do. The looks often made me duck my head when in a public place with her and avoid eye contact. Or just simply ask her to wait in the car while I ran my errands.
I haven’t spoken with her in a month. I see her often as I’m leaving the house, but I just pretend to avert my attention to something else. She watches, though. She knows.
I know, too. It’s just not working out.
I have to cut the cord.
I’m not worried about her, though. She’ll find someone else. Someone who will treat her the way she wants to be treated. And I’m happy for her.
And hey, maybe one day we’ll get back together. When she’s had time to mature a little.
For now, my charcoal love, I bid you adieu.