WHY!?!

"Have a good night," I wished him politely, then trotted indoors. 

He was a ridiculously nice fellow, a refreshing change than the last roster of bachelors, but the conversation didn't reflect any other similarity of character or outlook. I slept peacefully that night, having cheerfully assumed that he would say "no."

Except he didn't. 

"What?" I gasped in shock, dropping my spoon messily into my cooling oat bran as Ma sadly told me the news.

"But—but—" I stammered feebly. 

A turmoil of thoughts and emotions bubbled and seethed, much to Spock's dislike.

To pull a Tevye: 

On the one hand, he is a really, really good guy; that cannot be discounted. 

On the other hand: That's it. 

On the third hand, that dreaded phrase: "Who knows?" 

"Who knows." I hate "Who knows." Because of "Who knows," I consider relocating to an empty mountaintop, with the woodland creatures as my sole companions.

But there is also the other aspect, the one that is the true cause for my discomfort (specifically, cramping intestines). 

I have had a few crushes following a first date, which were not reciprocated. I have burned from the dreaded sting of rejection, followed by the days, months, sometimes years of thinking, If only I hadn't said "_________." Maybe, if I had said "_________," we would be happily married by now with five kids. I would have changed for him, into whatever he wanted me to be instead. I could have changed for him. If only he had given me the chance. 

But I really do know, even when the stupid delusional part of my brain is blathering away, that I don't want to change my inherent self for anyone. 

And I don't want anyone else planning to change his inherent self for me.

I don't want him to go through that which I went through, recriminations, moments of self-disgust, questioning my own identity and values—that hurl-inducing roller-coaster ride as id, superego, and ego slug it out.       

He says he understands my reasons. That he'll change. 

I don't want him to change. He shouldn't have to change. He is what he is now, as I am what I am now. If we had been 21 when we were introduced, would the issue have been an issue? Probably not. But we met now, as we are now. Isn't that, too, bashert?

He is Supermensch. He deserves to be with someone who will respect and appreciate him as he is, instead of sending him out for repairs right off the bat, even if they are voluntary. 

I don't want to hurt him, or anyone else, the way I have hurt. I asked the Eibishter to spare me that worry, and for once, for His own reasons, He hasn't.

The Tevye voice fades away, leaving only a firm, repetitive resolve. I know what has to be done. 

"Hello, Mrs. Schwartz? Hi, this is Lea. Look, he really is an amazing guy, but . . . "