Never grow up.
Have you ever fallen in love with someone so deep that you’ve dug yourself a hole that you will spend the rest of eternity either being satisfied or sadly discouraged and scarred? I have fallen in love with my best friend and there is no stopping me. It’s going at full force, top speed. I’m a racehorse with no rider, no saddles strapped to my back, nothing to slow me down.
His image always lingers in my mind after our last goodbyes. He is so amazing. There is no other boy who could possibly look that perfect. His eyes are a soft dark brown and whenever I see them looking straight into mine, it feels like all my stress has been lifted off my shoulders, all my worries washed down the drain. And when he leans in to kiss me, my heart skips a beat or two, and then I think to myself: Wow, I’m kissing the guy I love so much. His hands feel rough in mine, full of scars of anger and resentment. But once his fingers are laced in mine, I wish those feelings all away and love just brings out the best in him.
But his attractive physical features are not the only thing that make him seem appealing. His nature, his personality makes him lovable. I wouldn’t want a man who wants to have sex every night or constantly flirts with other girls, as I’m sure no one would. No, he spends time with me as wisely as he could. We volunteer together — ping-pong, the occasional trivial pursuits, and the morning exercises. We see each other at our “best hospitality” days.
Our dates aren’t exactly the normal teenager-type dates. We spend time together by going to Starbucks, watching movies, smelling books at Barnes and Nobles, and sitting by the lake. Mall dates? No. I can’t see how window shopping or shopping in general can really make a couple bond, whereas all the things that we do together, as weird as they seem, make us comfortable with each other.
Not only are our dates not normal, our conversations aren’t either. Sometimes, we are serious, talking about the purpose of life and my ongoing problems. But other times, all we talk about are musicals, African Americans, or even his brother Joseph. Thank God he doesn’t call me “baby” or “babe.” Terms of endearment are meant to “endear,” so the term I find endearing is “butthoe,” one of our inside jokes that I have no idea how it came to be.
Going back to attractiveness, his intelligence also contributes to that. He can really make you think. He says something really smart and the first thing that pops in your head is “what?” And then when he tries to elaborate, you add another question mark to “what?” so it makes “what??” His artistic talent is also one to commend. I know some people who are really good at drawing, but the way he draws is so different, so mesmerizing. It’s completely inexplicable unless you saw it for yourself.
I don’t know. I can’t exactly describe our relationship in one word, because it’s completely more than one word. It’s several words, but no words. I love you so much, Steven. Like no joke. I love you so much.