a like letter

Dear You,

I didn’t even realize you were on my mind until my phone lit up with your name. I smiled, and said to my empty living room, “Oh, hello you!”

I like how it’s almost impossible for me to keep my hands at ten and two while you’re telling a story. I want to throw my hands in the air; one to cover my mouth and the other held out in front of me as if to say, Stop! You can’t be serious! I like that you’re embarrassed to say “sex” in front of me.

“I’m not delicate,” I say.

“It’s graphic…”

“Tell it out the window!”

I like how I don’t have to worry — or wonder, for that matter — what you think about me. You tell me. No one does that. You’re proud of me; you’re happy to introduce me to your friends; you like my pink dress and my hair worn down.

I like how when we’re drunk, we can say ridiculous things and not be embarrassed. I like that I get to act like I’m living in a movie and you just hand me another drink. I like that you know the answers I don’t. That you let me bust your chops. That we grew up, and now we get to be friends.

I think maybe that’s what I like best.

Like,

Me

18 comments to a like letter