I don’t love you. I can’t. Love requires trust and trust requires time and experiences, and we’ve had neither. But just add that and I will be head over heels for you. I do not love you, but i am on the path to it.
I know this because I like you. A lot. Yes, I like you for your sideburns, your hair, your intelligence, your taste, your awkwardness. But i know I like you a lot for other reasons. I know I like you because when you give me that stupid grin the earth stops spinning, I know I like you because I could stand there for days looking at your big teeth until I die of neglect, I know I like you because when you laugh, when you’re happy, I fill up and I laugh too, even if I never got the joke, I know I like you because when you speak to me you validate me, when you say one of your rare but adorable little sentences I feel like I deserve to exist, I feel I like me almost as much as I like you. And I know I like you because when you are unhappy, unenthusiastic, uninterested, when you close yourself off, I feel lost, inadequate, incompetent. I know I have to help you but I don’t know how. Even if helping you requires removing myself from your life.
And that is how I know that I would have loved you.
If you had given me a chance.
Apparently it’s not socially acceptable for a man to invite another man out just for coffee or to go out for a meal, in case it’s perceived as a date. Like it’s fine if you wanna go to the pub and drink beer and have a chat but make it non-alcoholic and suddenly you’re not straight anymore? You can go to the cinema together but ONLY if it’s an action movie. You guys can’t even just go shopping with each other. Oh masculinity, so fragile, so strange.
I Don’t Know How Much Vodka I Put In This But I’m Going To Drink It Anyways: a memoir
This drink tastes awful, but I can’t waste alcohol: a sequel
If I take small sips I can add more mixer as I drink to even out how strong this is: the third book in the series