You were, perhaps, too hard to get.
I was initially intrigued by your exotic charm and foreign accent. You were interesting to me in a non-sterile sort of way, with your cracks and rats and potential for anything to happen. I should have known I would never win your heart, though. After all, you’re already taken by so many other teachers and expats. I shouldn’t have expected you would want to become something special to me.
It was easy to like you in the beginning. You were fun and friendly and we opened up to each other, but the minute you felt vulnerable, you put up walls to shut me out. You wanted to make it hard for me to like you, which of course only made me want you all the more.
I tried to get to know you, but venturing out into your sweaty streets only served to exhaust me. You seemed to offer very little beyond shopping; I now know that I deserve more.
There were redeeming moments – moments in which you opened up to me, made yourself accessible, showed me what you believed in…You allowed me the freedom to leave you some weekends when I needed fresh air; You shared your wonderful gastronomic delights; you helped me build confidence in myself and my abilities to persevere through our relationship even at your most distant, when I was feeling absolutely and completely alone.
You showed me how to be more perceptive in seeking out connection. You showed me how to trust my gut when it comes to these things. The fact of the matter is, I miss certain things about my ex, Athens (like access to the wilderness and being able to speak my native tongue around town and having hot showers) for a reason. I do have a type, and it’s for a reason.
But in the end, I admit, I stuck by you because I had made a commitment to you and I like to stay good on my promises. I never imagined back in August that I would have stayed here with you until my contract expired at school at the end of March – and it’s still so surreal to see that that time has actually come! – but here I am, true to my word. Even after the time you made me sit through three hours of traffic only to have to turn right back around and go home.
I think I was lying to myself when I said I wanted us to be friends. I want more and I can’t help it. You can’t give me more, and you can’t help it.
I’m not sorry for ending this. I think we both know it’s right. I never really got what I wanted from you, but maybe in a few years, when the BTS goes out into Nonthaburi and you’ve had your heart broken by more than a few others, we will meet again and whatever this chemical attraction was will flourish into the passionate, fiery love it had the potential to be.
For more on breakups, see my post on the time my little college town broke my heart.