scare easy

I'm not sure how well the arranged marriage will work out. I may not be built right for it. I require an initial spark. I crave those damn butterflies. If they aren't there, I get bored faster than a 4 year old watching Citizen Kane. And that pretty much sums up what has become of my arranged marriage. Not a butterfly in the place. Not even a caterpillar.
Or, at least, not that I can see. He, on the other hand, is in some fairy tale land akin to the butterfly garden at Marine World. He tells me, he tells his friends. He's been struck by a spark I didn't ever see. And he's very clear on that! And me? I scare easy. This is me running. I don't want to be mean, I don't want to be a heartbreaker, but it is situations like this one that give me that reputation. I have spent a total of 3 hours with this person, and he's already shouting from the rooftops. If he'd shut up long enough to watch me react to the screaming, he'd have saved us both a lot of trouble. As it is, though, I have to have an awkward conversation with an unsuspecting, innocent guy, who meant no harm. Suddenly I'm the bitch again. I'm the bitch just because I don't feel it. I'm not even giving him a name here. He's my failed attempt at an arranged marriage. He will be a reminder that I am a hopeless romantic, and I require love from the start.
Tonight I will have the awkward conversation. It will be a long, awkward, uncomfortable night. I will learn my lesson.
I hope I learn my lesson. I hate this conversation.
L