We'd never get on. You're far too opinionated, and your pronouncements aggravate me. You go on and on about the same old things all the time, expecting me to see every issue from your point of view, never for one minute considering the possibility that you might be wrong. If we were sat in a pub, you'd be pontificating over your pint and I'd be volunteering to buy the next round in an attempt to escape. You do certainty, I do uncertainty. We'd never get on.
We'd never get on. You're far too negative, forever pointing out the downside to everything. You love nothing better than nit-picking the tiniest detail, even though your focus on smug point-scoring pedantry is enormously irritating. If we were at the cinema, you'd be the one whispering plot-holes in my ear and I'd be wishing you'd shut up and let everyone watch the film in peace. You're a pessimist, I'm an optimist. We'd never get on.
We'd never get on. You're far too boring, and your limited range of conversational topics bores me rigid. I'm far too polite to mention it, but your constant uninspired blathering is unutterably tedious. Do you seriously believe that anyone else finds this stuff interesting, or does that thought never cross your mind? If we were introduced at a dinner party, I'd be praying not to be the one sat beside you all evening. You drone, I tolerate. We'd never get on.
We'd never get on. You're far too self-centred, and everything has to be about you. No matter what topic we start off discussing, you always manage to twist the conversation round to what you think, where you've been and what you've done. If we spent the day together round town, I know we'd end up doing precisely what you wanted without any consideration of what I might prefer. You're overwhelming, I'm underwhelmed. We'd never get on.
We'd never get on. You're far too keen, your fawning behaviour verging occasionally on the obsequious, and it's making me feel uncomfortable. Why this constant need for commitment and reassurance, because I'm afraid it isn't mutual. If we were at a party you'd be the one following me around trying to make conversation all the time, and I'd be hiding in the kitchen to keep out of your way. You want attention, I need freedom. We'd never get on.
We'd never get on. You're obviously lovely, charming and delightful, but for me that's not enough. Your sense of humour and intelligence shine through, but in my world even near-perfection is insufficient. If we ever met I'm sure I'd have a delightful time in your company, and things might initially look like they were going fine, but it'd only be a one-off. You might seek a longer friendship, but I'm persistently ungratefully unsociable. We'd never get on. Please, don't take it personally.
