ericjasongastelum - 11/19/2008 11:31 PM ET
this breaks my heart with joy in the best way possible.
|Am I in love with you?
Ok. Ok. We donít really know each other that well. Love is too strong a word.
Am I in like with you, then?
Thatís silly. I know I like you, otherwise I wouldnít feel so conflicted.
So hereís the question; is there something between like and love? And if there is, am I there?
Okay, thatís two questions, but thatís not the point.
Hereís the thing. When youíre in loveÖ likeÖ that thing between like and loveÖ loke maybe? When youíre there arenít you supposed to think about the other person all the time? Thatís what the facebook bumper stickers all say. But I donít think about you all the time. I think about you sometimes, but not all the time.
I think about spending time with you.
I think about you meeting my family.
I think about meeting your family. Iím afraid your mother wouldnít like me because sheís traditional and Iím white.
I think about doing things I shouldnít think about doing with you.
But I donít think about you all the time.
Iíve never thought about writing about youÖ before now of course. Thatís certainly different from the last guy I had a crush on. I was in my first creative writing class and too much bad poetry was about him.
But I get jealous when I think about you being with someone else. Maybe not jealous exactly, but I get this funny feeling in my tummy and my heart feels sad.
We donít really know each other that well.
I donít know what you know about me.
I know that you have two brothers.
I know where youíre from.
I know where you work.
I know what you do on a very basic level, but thatís mostly because I donít understand what you do.
I know that your college graduation was marred with tragedy, but Iíve never mentioned it. I havenít wanted to bring it up.
I know what TV shows you like to watch, some of them anyway.
I know what kind of car you drive.
I know that youíre allergic to nuts.
I donít know your brotherís names.
I donít know any funny stories from high school.
I donít know how you take your coffee.
I didnít know your phone number until this past weekend.
I donít know a lot of things.
But is it the stuff that I donít know thatís important? I want to know. Doesnít that count?
Youíre a nice guy, a true gentleman, most of the time at least. You hold the umbrella for me in the rain (or try to at least Ė the fact that youíre so much taller than me makes it not overly effective). Youíre a southern gentleman, just like Iím sure you were raised to be.
You pick on me, but thatís one of the things I like about you.
Can I be honest? Thatís one of the things that drew me to you in the first place. The first time we met you laughed at me and called me a ďcloset geek.Ē
What does it say about my self-esteem that I took picking on me as an attractive trait?
So am I in between like and love with you?
Am I in between like and love with the idea of being in between like and love?
Is that an okay place to be?
I sure hope so, because I donít really have time to travel right now.
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