Something missing on December 7, 1998…

Dear Breakup Girl,

I hate to need your help — but I can’t admit this to my friends, and I’m beginning to struggle. Okay.

My boyfriend is perfect.

And I don’t care.

Well, it’s not that I don’t care — I do! I think he’s the best! It’s been almost three months (and you’d be so proud, we’ve been going oh-so-slow. I’m 32, he’s 39 and we’ve both been burned before, so there is a certain degree of caution on both sides), and we really *like* each other. And I don’t mean in the like as opposed to love sense, but in the genuine affection sense. It’s kind of scary. This could actually happen, for real, BG. This could *work.*

We’re both really busy at work, so we only see each other on the weekend, but then our dates last for like, ten hours! We talk, we hang out, we go hiking and biking — it’s great. And he *talks* to me! And actually listens, too! And he thinks the same and he’s funny and he works really hard and he loves his dog. And he thinks the absolute world of me.

But.

But I don’t feel like ripping his clothes off. He’s cute, too! And when I close my eyes and he kisses me (and one evening when we’d both had a teensy too much to drink and were silly . . . that was pretty good) … Oh, BG, I’m just a mess. He’s handed me his ego on a silver platter, and I am terrified of hurting him. And I just feel like he deserves *more*. Like a woman that wants to rip his clothes off, maybe.

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