A quiet surrender to the echoes of what once was
In “I Keep Putting Off Getting Over You” by Don Williams, from his 1980 studio album I Believe in You (released August 4 1980). Though not issued as a major chart-topping single in its own right, the record appeared as track 8 of the album and became part of the tapestry of Williams’s gentle country-ballad oeuvre.
In this introduction I will place the essential facts first, then move into deeper reflection on the song’s lyrical and musical resonance, its place in Williams’s catalogue, and its legacy.
From the onset of his career, Don Williams carved out a style of understated sincerity—his voice warm, unforced, bound to steel-guitar and simple arrangement that allowed the words to breathe. On I Believe in You, he reached one of his creative peaks: the title track became a No. 1 country hit and even crossed over into the pop realm. Within that context “I Keep Putting Off Getting Over You” serves as a kind of companion piece—less flashy, more intimate, a deep dive into the slower ache of emotional inertia.
Lyrically the song is remarkably direct: the narrator confesses that he keeps the photograph on the dresser, the pillow by the bed, the night-light burning in the window, all in the service of not moving on. The heart of the song is summarized in the line: “I keep putting off getting over you / ’Cause that would be too hard to ever do.” (Chords and lyrics confirm this refrain.) In refusing to “get over you,” the narrator paradoxically preserves the relationship’s echo—choosing memory over the uncertain future of loss or renewal.
Musically the piece is emblematic of Williams’s “Gentle Giant” persona: sparse instrumentation, the interplay of acoustic guitar and soft rhythm, his unhurried vocal delivery. This arrangement leaves space for emotional complexity: the subtle tremor in his voice, the pauses, the unadorned line-delivery suggest more than the words say. In a sense the song is about the refusal to complete grief, to cross the threshold into acceptance; it lingers in the liminal space of “not yet” rather than “already done.”
In the larger narrative of Williams’s work, “I Keep Putting Off Getting Over You” reflects a recurring theme of largely unspoken resignation: love that doesn’t announce itself loudly, heartbreak that whispers rather than storms, and character who remains dignified in the throes of emotional surrender. It stands in contrast to more exuberant country-hits of the era and instead offers a quiet solace to those who knew the pain of keeping hope alive in one’s own private room.
Though it may not have been a major single on its own, the song’s presence on a successful album, and its place in Williams’s discography of measured reflection, gives it enduring significance. It invites the listener to inhabit a late hour, a dim lamp, a memory that will not be let go. It reminds us that sometimes the hardest part of moving on is the permission we refuse to give ourselves.
In its shared world of restraint and nuance, “I Keep Putting Off Getting Over You” remains a testament to Don Williams’s gift: to express the substantial life of feeling without grand gestures—a softly spoken confession that lingers.