That poem was wonderful! If I had a heart, your words would have touched it deeper than anything ever before… But I don’t because a live beating heart would not provide a sterile environment for people to enjoy delicious Denny’s food. Charlotte, I fear you may have misunderstood me. We love each other. It’s true. But marriage between us would be impossible. People would talk. They’d scoff at our happiness saying that a relationship between a restaurant and a girl would never work. And sadly, they’d be right. You need something more. Sure I’m able to keep you fed, and happy from time to time. But I can’t hold your hand. I can’t look you in the eyes and tell you you’re beautiful as I run my fingers gently through your hair. I’m just a restaurant. Granted, the best restaurant, but still a restaurant. I wish you all the happiness in the world, Charley. I see great things in your future. And I hope that when you’re old and gray, sitting with the person you’ve chosen to be with, the person that you love, you can reflect on our time together positively. And if you’re ever hungry, in need of a delicious and affordable meal, know that I’ll be waiting and ready. Take care Charley Rose. See you soon.
Umm… I don’t really want to start an argument, Charley. I want to be adults about this. Sure, we haven’t followed you, but when was the last time you reblogged something we posted? Let me answer that for you. Never.
I’m sorry. That was rude. I don’t mean to be like that. I just. I’m hurt. I appreciate your honesty, I do. I’m sure that was really hard to admit. It shows a lot of courage, really speaks to your character that you can own up to a mistake like that. Unfortunately you have betrayed my trust. It’s going to be hard for us to get back to where we were emotionally. It’s going to take time. I hope you understand that I need this time to really look at everything under a microscope. With a fine lens. I need to take time to find who I really want me to be. When I am ready, I promise, I’ll let you know… Should be around dinner time. Or breakfast. Or lunch. Actually anytime you’re hungry, come on in. My grieving and self-reflection periods are never long. After all, I’m a restaurant.