As one reader noted, be careful taking the high road--it can have huge drop-offs. Although it is nice to take the high road, offer forgiveness, give second chances, it is also important to remember the old adage--fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me. I can be too generous in that regard. I feel sorry for the broken, defective guys. I want to nurture them, understand them, fix them. But they've been cast aside for a reason--mostly because they are broken, defective, and not worth fixing.
Gratefully, the floppy-haired sailor guy makes it easy to just smile and walk away. Certainly, it was silly of me to take the high road, offer forgiveness, leave doors open. A momentary lapse of reason for which I ask forgiveness. I don't really understand why he would even bother to contact me when apparently he just wanted to make himself feel better by admitting he was "a dick" and then tell me that he couldn't deal with both all the things I said to him and the death of his nineteen-year-old cat. [Yes, you read that correctly. You might even want to read it again just to let it sink in. And for the record, nothing I said to him even included the four-letter word beginning with "L".] I mean, doesn't everyone know that when grieving the death of your only lifelong feline friend, having a beautiful mermaid in love with you might just push you over the edge? My god, what was I thinking! When he said he would keep me up all night until I fell in love with him, when he knew I needed to get up early and run 16 miles but said "what's more important, running a marathon or falling in love?" I should have known he didn't actually mean for me to fall in love with him. Silly, silly girl!
Ah, but despite all that, he'd be down to hang out as friends and doesn't have anything to be mad with me about. Well, let me tell you that's a relief. I just about fell off my chair laughing.
We can be lovers or we can be strangers. But we never have been, and never will be, friends. The next move is a very simple one: game over.