By Meganne MacFarlane
Like most people, I’ve had relationships that didn’t end well.
I have trust issues. I let every promise whispered to me fly away before I even get a chance to hold it closely. If you continue playing your cards right, perhaps I will tell you just why I can’t listen to that one song, or why I get quiet when you ask me about my bad habits.
In all honesty, I think you’ll be the worst habit I’ll try to break. I’m preparing myself for your abrupt goodbye.
I expect you to leave me disappointed and filled with sweet little lies that will replay like a broken record every night as I try to sleep. But so far, you haven’t met my minimal expectations of you.
You shouldn’t be taking me on adventures and to pretty places, but I find myself getting excited when you make these vague plans and end up taking me to a quiet little lake only you know about.
I’m amazed that you listen when I mention things, as though I don’t need to repeat my favorite ice cream every time you ask what I would like from the store.
You’re destroying my walls in the most beautiful way possible.
The way you leave little reminders that you were thinking of me makes me smile. The notes tied to my car and phone calls always amaze me. Your honesty is probably what I am most confused by since that has been a foreign language in my past.
Please don’t think I’m questioning you when I ask you to clarify what exactly we are or what you mean when you say that you like me, I’m still trying to translate a few of those words.
I find myself feeling the most well rested after a night in one of your flannels. Your scent still lingers on it, but I am absolutely terrified that you will leave faster than my memory of it will.
I don’t want to have to sleep in anything other than one of your shirts again, going back to having restless nights of tossing and turning.
I don’t question your intentions or silently disregard your pleas that she is just a friend. See, you’re the first person in a while that I have believed. I didn’t think that I could go back to trusting someone, but you make me have far fewer doubts than I am able to remember.
The playlist you made and named after me includes a few songs that I briefly mentioned I liked, and I love kissing you as they play.
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For the first time, I don’t have an endgame. I want you to be there for all of my summer plans, and I want you to be the one I go on dates with, not some guy I met or a friend of a friend.
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I want to continue going to golf courses when they’re closed and let you laugh while I miss the ball four swings in a row. I want our playlist to continue to grow so when I hear a song from it on the radio, I’ll immediately think of you.
I want your hands to be the only ones touching me, and your mouth to be the only one kissing mine.
I’m frightened that this is only a fling, but I am more scared that it’s not. This uncharted territory terrifies me to the core, but I think I’ll jump without a parachute and see what happens.
Meganne MacFarlane is a creative writer whose work has been featured on Unwritten and All4Women. She writes on topics of gender, heartbreak, and relationships.
This article was originally published at Unwritten. Reprinted with permission from the author.