I’m really sorry, Maths. People try to get me back into you. They talk me patiently through cashflows, urge me to take the right mindset to our relationship. We rub along okay together, don’t we? But you and me, if we’re honest, it’s like wading through mud. I have no real answer to where we went wrong, Maths, but I can take an educated guess. Do you remember when we were young? Pouring water from jug to jug, squelching in puddles on the floor. Sunlight spilling through the classroom windows and dust motes spinning in the air. We went with a few friends, do you remember that? Into the secret place that was our head teacher’s office, to talk through some puzzles. We were happy then. We had no fear.
But later, do you remember, things started to go wrong? You put me on the spot, insisted on answers I just didn’t have. Told me you were numbers on a grid, that I must remember (or else). Then later on, someone said you weren’t really for girls, anyway. And that was me done. We began to lose touch. We drifted apart. But do you know what swung it? It was when I met Miss Ladd, and Valerie and Hilary. They showed me how words could open up my world. That I could use language to make sense of my thoughts. And that was me, gone. Yes, I honestly believe you are beautiful, and magical, and full of wonder, Maths. But I’m really sorry to have to tell you this. I’m just not that into you.