Manners are taught to us from a young age.
I’m sure you remember your parents asking you “What’s the magic word?” when you wanted something. It almost always elicited the “Please!” response from me when I was growing up. “Please” was quickly followed by “Thank you” and the occasional “Sorry”.
I have to admit that my manners do slip sometimes. I occasionally forget to say please and thank you. My sorry’s are few and far between.
Mainly because I’m stubborn and don’t like to admit that I fu*ked up somewhere along the line. However, I really meant it when I do say those words.
I’m sure you remember reading my angsty and highly apologetic post a while ago.
Part of it was a blanket apology to everyone in my life because I know I am going to mess up more than once. Probably more than twice. The other part of that post was directed to one person in particular. I’m not sure if he has – or ever will – read that post, but I have always felt that I communicate better in writing. Am I the only one?
So, weeks after saying sorry, I am back to say thank you.
I’ve only known you for a handful of months, but they were some pretty great months.
Thank you for being kind, caring, and generous.
Thank you for putting up with how I objectified you every morning.
Thank you for asking me what I needed from you.
Thank you for buying ingredients to cook dinner and taking me out instead.
Thank you for being there.
Thank you for all the small things.
I can’t help but feel like one of those girls who splashes their relationship (or in my case: lack thereof) all over the internet. I’m not that person. Usually.
It’s no secret that I haven’t been in a proper relationship before. I have gone on dates, but they have never eventuated into anything. It takes a special sort of person to catch my attention and hold it for any amount of time. I did find that person. For a while. I got so wholly caught up in it. It was great. I was falling for him.
And then it ended.
And I never managed to say thank you.
So here I am, saying thank you. For everything.