I’m done. I think.

More e-mails from MJCF today … all day long. Nothing of substance was discussed, no plans were made. What I previously would have seen as flirtation just seemed immature.

It is completely ridiculous to live 15 minutes apart, e-mail/chat basically daily yet not spend any time together. My friend called MJCF the “poster child for fear of commitment,” and he’s right. He’s a grown man who would rather spend time with his TV than a woman, or at least me. To paraphrase a scene in “Fever Pitch,” Jimmy Fallon is lamenting the amount of time he’s put into his “relationship” with the Red Sox. A smart little kid said, “But have the Sox ever loved you back?”

I just need to let this thing end. No more e-mails. No more hours-long chat sessions. Even if he does defy my expectations and remember my birthday, it doesn’t matter — because he’d be using material goods to convey his emotions. I’ve been through that before and I ended up with a house full of shit I didn’t want and couldn’t afford, and I still had a hole in my heart.

I want a man who is present. A man who may be afraid to tell me how he feels but takes the chance anyway. A man who can make and honor a date with me more than two hours in advance.

MJCF isn’t that man.

But say, with my help and encouragement, he became that man. We’d probably still freakin’ break-up and all I would have done was wasted time making him into a good boyfriend for another woman.

Screw that.

Will I miss his adorable smile, those dimples, his sense of humor? Sure. Will I miss his flakiness, inability to commit or over-reliance on his parents? No way.

I know, I’ve sung this tune more times than I care to remember … one of these times it will end for good.