Fifteen possible reasons it didn’t work out (not based on anything but the extra ten minutes I have before the next bunch of teenagers arrives)

My inability to believe in the power of life-changing epiphanies was taken as an inability to believe in life changes. I preferred serving meals that didn’t cause our guests to vomit, whereas she seemed not to. Sex isn’t the only important thing. There was disagreement over the plausibility of using Kremlinologist in actual conversation. She had terrible intuitive leaps of logic that inspired ill-conceived vendettas against co-workers and neighbors. I liked to jam out in the car, which turned, at some point, from being a sign of my loose unself-consciousness to a sign of my inveterate juvenilia. Being 27 is very different than being 21. Her mother never learned my name. Her cat died and my dog chewed on its carcass before we discovered it – and by chewed on, I mean “ate most of”. I had terrible fashion sense, and she had no tact. Those hips never quite qualified as child-bearing. My phone etiquette consists solely of repeating “yeah” or “uh-huh” over and over and over. What I thought of as the soul-deadening shittiness of Robin Williams entire oeuvre, she took to be light entertaining comedy. Her friends thought I was a shiftless loser. I never introduced her to my friends.