I can love. I swear I can love.
I know because I’ve loved you in reverse. Loving you wasn’t in the blinding, hypnotizing initial attraction where we swapped puns and book titles and spit. It wasn’t in the fairytale you wrote me or between our laced fingers. It wasn’t in my churning stomach at the sight of you, and it certainly wasn’t in the pieces of my heart I salvaged from under your foot. But you’re the only one I’ve ever loved and it took moving to Paris to realize it. It took moving to New York. It took being without you for a year and a half. It took trying on other men like hats. It took distractions and new obsessions and telling you every detail of my life mundane or extraordinary - your reaction be damned.
It took a trip to the grocery store together.
I thought love was all or nothing. You’re with me or you’re not. But in the middle of the produce section, there you were. You were with me. You knew every detail of my life; mundane and extraordinary. And still- there you were. And as you absentmindedly picked up a can of beans you knew were on my list, I knew. Love doesn’t attempt to blind or hypnotize. It’s knowing someone like the back of your hand and respecting them enough to pick up their beans. It’s being unapologetically yourself and being accepted for it. As I rummage through piles of men on my quest for happiness, in the corner of my heart I know I’m happiest with you.
