Short one tonight
“You went a little crazy last night.”
“I did,” I admitted. “I wish I hadn't.”
“That's usually how these things work. Gods know that I have enough regrets.”
I don't know what to say to that. He's right, but just because he's right doesn't mean that this post has to be about him. After all, I'm writing it, and I'm selfish at times.
“So, what changed everything? You were pretty sure you were going to drop her five hours ago.”
“She called like she said she would,” I explained, and I don't think that means as much to anyone else reading this as it does to me. She kept her word, even though she was drunk, even though she probably didn't want to talk to me right then, even though the party she was at sounded like a complete blast. It made me think.
“That's it? A phone call?”
“And she still wants to see me at the airport.” Again, something that other people just wouldn't get. I'd given up hope on that one. I figured that having a fight this close to the date was just going to be too much for this fragile little arrangement to handle. It was going to break, and give way, and that was going to be it.
But that wasn't it. In her head, that was just a fight, and it didn't impact everything the way that I thought it did. I was viewing the whole situation with last-night colored glasses, and without them, really, nothing had fundamentally changed.
“What's that question you wanted to type for ages? Now seems like a good time for it, right?”
“Oh, Um, yea. The question is: Which is more important 'I love her.' or 'She loves me.'”
“What's your answer?”
“Always has been 'I love her.' You know that.”
“Even if she doesn't love you back?”
“She does.” I swore, and for once, I meant it.
“I did,” I admitted. “I wish I hadn't.”
“That's usually how these things work. Gods know that I have enough regrets.”
I don't know what to say to that. He's right, but just because he's right doesn't mean that this post has to be about him. After all, I'm writing it, and I'm selfish at times.
“So, what changed everything? You were pretty sure you were going to drop her five hours ago.”
“She called like she said she would,” I explained, and I don't think that means as much to anyone else reading this as it does to me. She kept her word, even though she was drunk, even though she probably didn't want to talk to me right then, even though the party she was at sounded like a complete blast. It made me think.
“That's it? A phone call?”
“And she still wants to see me at the airport.” Again, something that other people just wouldn't get. I'd given up hope on that one. I figured that having a fight this close to the date was just going to be too much for this fragile little arrangement to handle. It was going to break, and give way, and that was going to be it.
But that wasn't it. In her head, that was just a fight, and it didn't impact everything the way that I thought it did. I was viewing the whole situation with last-night colored glasses, and without them, really, nothing had fundamentally changed.
“What's that question you wanted to type for ages? Now seems like a good time for it, right?”
“Oh, Um, yea. The question is: Which is more important 'I love her.' or 'She loves me.'”
“What's your answer?”
“Always has been 'I love her.' You know that.”
“Even if she doesn't love you back?”
“She does.” I swore, and for once, I meant it.