You wished that I would see your life in helvetica.

Annoyingly,

I dissected your every move, and every element in your apartment. In the same way that I will not be yet another idiot girl, you will be pinned to a card, and put in a drawer. I had to protect myself from your obvious smugness. You behaved as though hidden cameras were capturing it all: how attractive, aloof, off-handedly intelligent, and secretly wounded you are. The slight hesitation before your smirk gives you away. The translation of “this is how I will get her to kiss me,” slows your motion. You have a tell. You wished that I would see your life in helvetica. But ultimately, all of the clues reveal that, yes, you are well-groomed, and re-capitulate your process with your targets. The precise amounts of vintage references, GRE words, beers, and deep “secrets” are calculated as you go. Just trust me when I say this: I noticed every time you gave yourself personal accolades for boundaries you think you may have almost talked me into crossing.

I suppose I left for lack of trust, and also:

You seemed like just another one of those guys who probably would’ve liked me better if I still weighed 87 pounds.