He said it like it was wisdom. Like it was noble.
“Let’s not ruin what we have.”
And I swear, for a second, I almost clapped.
Because damn, the performance? Oscar-worthy.
But here’s what he really meant:
“Let’s keep it exactly how it is — unhealed, unspoken, unfinished. Because I’m scared shitless of what might happen if we actually did the work.”
This line isn’t romantic. It’s not mature. It’s not deep. It’s lazy. It’s cowardice wrapped in a soft blanket of fake care.
It’s the verbal version of a guy standing in a burning house going, “Let’s not open any windows, I’m used to the smoke.”
I’ve lived that line. Sat across from someone who loved comfort more than clarity.
Someone who’d rather spoon-feed me half-truths than choke on the full one.
And let me tell you — it’s a special kind of heartbreak when someone pretends to protect you from a fall, when they’re the ones cutting the damn parachute.
This is the guy who won’t define the relationship, but still gets jealous when you smile too long at your phone.
The guy who holds your hand in public but…
