I may not have mentioned this, but you might want to make a note of the fact that I have a bad leg. A particularly bad leg, in fact. One with  murderous intent.
This is important for you to know because I can tell you that many times, only after I become close with someone, they learn that my bad leg wants to kill them, and then we end up not being able to work things out.
Or, and this is arguably worse, my bad leg ends up killing them. That only happened once, actually. It was pretty ugly though, and it took me a long time to come to terms. I just don’t want to get hurt again.
Surely you can understand that. You certianly have your own picadillos, do you not? Are there not sordid details of your life that you think I should know at this point? Rather than wait around and be disapointed with one another later, I would like to get these things out in the open, here and now. We can discuss them like adults and come to a rational decision.
Oh, I’ve upset you. I can see that. I’m sorry. I can tell you honestly, It’s not me that wants to see you dead. It’s my bad leg. It’s got some kind of a compultion. It’s genuinely bad. IT’s a bad leg. A murderer, you see?
Are you sure you’re ready to talk about this?
What do I mean? It’s just that you seem kind of upset. Maybe it would be better if we talked about something else. Have you heard any good songs on the radio?
No, no, no. I don’t want you killed. I like you quite a bit, actually. It’s my bad leg. It wants to kill everbody. YOu’re not special. It’s just a bad leg. It has a dagerous compusion to murder people. That’s why I like to get it in the open right away. You need to gird yourself against the fact that you may never really be able to trust that my Leg might not one day attempt to stab you with a knife or put poison in your drink.
Oh, you’re crying now. Was I too graphic? I’m sorry. It’s my damn leg. It gets me upset too. Look at it! It’s laughing at us. It takes joy in the discomfort and upset it’s created between us. Oh my damn leg! Damn you leg!
I will go then. I’m sorry. I was only trying to protect you. I never meant to hurt you. My leg did, yes. But Not I. I was thinking of your best interests. I could have loved you. We could have had something special. I understand. It’s my leg. Who could love one with a leg as bad as mine.
Don’t feel bad. Science will provide a solution, one day. REhabilitation, not prison, and all that.
I will take my things and go, then. I am sorry. I wish things could have worked out. It’s my damn leg. It takes all the best things from me. You could have been very special to me. You have no idea how I hurt. My leg hurts me.