And by hate, I really mean it…
I hate how you try to set up a perfect date. I don’t need a perfect date, not all the time. Just close that foody website, climb on your bike, take all right turns and try the 35th restaurant we see on our right.
I hate how skillful you are at dining tables. It makes me feel like a savage. Just use your hands to eat chicken wings. Just use your nails to pick out that piece of steak in between your teeth. Just be a savage like me.
I hate how charming you talk. Makes me feel like an uneducated. Just tell me your most embarrassing stories, run around making stupid noise. Just be goofy.
I hate it when you ask me what I want to do. Because I don’t know. I never have a plan. Can we just sit down and talk and figure out what to do along the way or maybe even not do anything but just sit and talk?
I hate it when you notice my new dress or perfume. Because I haven’t waxed my eyebrows for weeks. Because I forgot to shave yesterday. And I know you will notice those too.
I hate it when you kiss me like that. I can’t describe how that is, I don’t want to, but I just hate it.
I hate it when you introduce me to your friends. I love them, but I, I want to cry everytime I hear you talk to them. I want to be part of it, I want you to talk to me like that. But I know you never will.
I hate it when you spoonfeed me. Period.
I hate it when you’re good to everyone. I tell myself I’m in love with a good man. But deep down, I wish I was special.
I hate how you try to be perfect around me. I don’t want a perfect man. I want you. I want you to trust me enough to be not perfect around me. Because I am sick of pretending. And I wish I could show all my imperfection to you too.