“This is killing me”
A long time ago I was madly in love with a girl that I worked with, and she was in love with me. Problem was, we were both with other people at that time, and we both had decisions to make about our relationships.
One day on the way out of work my frustration reached its boiling point. We were walking out together – slowly, as usual, knowing we wouldn’t see each other again until the morning – and I reached out and held her hand and said, “This is killing me.”
“What is,” she asked, as we stopped walking.
I looked down, heaved out the world’s deepest sigh, then looked up at her. “Not going home with you.” I paused, trying to collect my thoughts. “I know it sounds silly, but I want to make dinner with you. And knowing that I won’t see you again until tomorrow ... I hate the nights without you. I ache, I literally have an ache in my stomach.” I paused as I was trying not to cry. I finally ended with, “and don’t even get me started on how much Friday nights hurt.”
Some time later she would tell me that was the sweetest and most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her.