He was sweet. He wasn't much of a gentleman, but he respected me. He listened to me talk endlessly about how I love to read and write and sing and dance. He never complained about how I wake up so early and force him to as well nor feel ignored every time I fell asleep early without wishing him good night. He was patient. He would fall asleep waiting for me to be ready for a date. He wouldn't call multiple times and ask me where I was already because he knew I was always late.
He didn't get mad when he waited for hours just to receive a text from me apologising because I can't make it. He cancelled plans when I told him I didn't like the people he was going with. He said sorry all the time even when I was at fault. He bought me flowers and chocolates. He would write me letters saying how much he loves me and how terrified he is of the thought of losing me. He always told me to be understanding of my parents even when they were trying to change my mind about being with him.
He was all that, until I realised how we weren't for each other. He was too good for me. I would go on for days without even calling him. I didn't mind cancelling plans with him to go out with girlfriends or some other unacceptable reasons like feeling too tired or sleepy. He valued and respected my opinions on things while I barely payed attention to his. I never asked him how he was or what he loved to do. It was all about me. It was all about me and my insensitivity and selfishness.
He was perfect, but not for me.
He was Romeo, but I wasn't Juliet.