I found myself lying in bed last night, wide awake at 2:00 am, pondering my need to have the following, completely cliched conversation:
"I really need some space. You're wonderful, the best guy a girl could ask for. Seriously! I love you very much. But I'm feeling smothered."
"You need to spend some time with your buddies, not just me. We all need space."
"When we go out together, I wish you would mingle more instead of clinging to my hand. It didn't used to be like this. You used to be the life of the party!"
"It's not you, it's me."
"I love physical affection as much as the next girl, but stopping what I'm doing to cuddle or hug 27,000 times a day is a bit much."
"What? No, there's no one else. REALLY! I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."
"Maybe we should just take a little break from each other. You know, find our individual identities again. I'll be back, I promise. I could never leave you."
"Truly, the problem is mine."
Yeah, I really need to have this conversation.
With my son.