It's not you, it's me

So after much debate and discussion (with my family, my dentist, my old banker, etc.) I got back to Chicago yesterday and made up my mind about ending my relationship with Sean. I'd had this overpowering urge to do it on the plane, but obviously couldn't, so I wrote out everything I wanted to say. Gotta love laptops.
There was a lot there, and by 12:30 a.m. when he finally returned my phone call, I decided that yep, this has to end. I tried to get myself invited over at the late hour, to do it, with no luck. Sickness or, uh, other company? aside, it just wasn't happening. Oh well.
Then, this morning, my offer of chicken noodle soup to patch up his illin' self (one last act of kindness)received an "I just want to be alone" response.
Wait a tick, am I getting dumped? Hmm, seems like it.
"If you want to be alone, like, on-your-own, just tell me," I said. To keep the rest of the story somewhat private, that's exactly what he wanted.
"Any outside observer would think I was crazy for doing this because you're one of the coolest girls I know, but I'm not in a good place to be a boyfriend to anyone right now," he said.
Inwardly, I yakked. Oh man, the old standby.
C'mon boys, come up with something more creative, please. Even if that's true, it's lame.
Outwardly, I laughed, and agreed.
"Yeah, I did a lot of thinking about this too, while at home, and you know, there's a lot I'm not getting from you that I need. You're right."
Might as well make this easy on all parties right? No need to list all four pages worth of what it was (or wasn't) for me. If letting him say it himself, and thus making himself sound like a bad boyfriend in order to think I won't be crying into my pillow tonight, fine, I can roll with it. But it's just more confirmation for what I already knew: this wouldn't work for much longer. I totally dug this guy and will continue to admire his work whenever I see it in the city or hopefully someday, on a greater scope. But anyone who really knows me, knows me well enough to know that I don't cry into my pillow over things like this. Especially when it's true. It wasn't me. It was all him. Eh, well.