The hurt is inevitable, even if we end up marrying this person.
The people we find ourselves in relationships with—regardless of how serious said relationships are (whatever that means)—come to know a part of us that we really only share with ourselves.
I noticed him in the hallway screwing around with his celphone, and of course, never heard from him again.
These are a few examples, but I recall these because the men, really from the very start when we sat down, or got to the party and said hello, seemed kinda glum, not into it and not interested in even being there.
They discover our private moments and they discover how we treat ourselves.
This process of being seen is closely tied with something I think is very beautiful and very human: the want for our offering to be taken care of.