I looked across the table at Nicole’s face. I was intimately familiar with every single bit of her beautiful face. We had dated for several years and we were engaged to be married. But I suddenly saw her as though it was for the first time.
“I can’t marry you,” I thought to myself. “I absolutely can’t marry you. We’re not right for each other.”
I had known this for a long time, but I had been lying to myself. On the surface, Nicole was everything I could want. She was a tall, beautiful and well-educated woman from the Midwest. She had moved to Birmingham because she loved me and wanted a future with me.
I had been lying to myself about her for quite some time. After I broke up with her early in the relationship and she begged me to give us another chance, I relented — even though I knew better. When she told me she wanted to move down here for us to date full time, I didn’t promise her anything, but I also didn’t tell her what I knew — that it wouldn’t work.

Vulnerability is scary, but failure to be open guarantees loss of love
Goodbye, Thomas (2006?-2023)
Mental illness can be hidden in any family, changing lives forever
Loss of respect for truth leads to remorseless liar’s excuses
Lennon had ‘wrong ambitions,’ but became cultural icon anyway
What if emotional baggage we carry isn’t really our core issue?
Not satire this time: In New Zealand, one model cries discrimination
I’ll never really know my mother and I’m envious of those who do