The Words That Made Me

I do not love you

Dear Hunter,

I want to thank you for these past two years. I still remember when I saw your grindr profile for the first time the exact thoughts that ran through my mind. (I still can't believe we met on Grindr by the way, the irony of that never escaped me) I remember thinking to myself "holy shit, this guy is really fucking hot. There's no way he's real", ironic that two years have passed and I still think this exact thought frequently. I find myself thinking it most in little moments, when you roll over in the morning and I'm already awake and on my phone and you gently rest your hand on my chest; or when you come up behind me while I'm on my computer and gently lay a kiss on my forehead. I always love you, but I think these are the moments I love you most. Those gentle random reminders of your love have never failed to make me swoon.

We've had a rough couple trips around the sun. I do not doubt that if there were any serious cracks in the fortress of our love the pressure of the external circumstances surrounding us would've broken down our walls by now. The Covid-19 Pandemic, my issues with my father, the circumstances surrounding my mothers life, my sisters accident this past fall. All of these things on their own could have very easily been too much to handle for me alone, however thanks to your endless support and love I have made it through each and every one of them. This is not even to mention my own depression, eating disorder and other issues I've battled over the past years. I feel it important to express that we both know things have not been perfect. I have sat up late into many nights teary eyed, wondering if you truly loved me or if I had moved in and you had felt too guilty to kick me out. During each of these nights I truly questioned your love, your comittment to me, but eventually every single time you would wake up and wrap your arms around me and suddenly I would know.

I've always had a complicated relationship with love, the absence of love in my childhood left me desperate for love and I found it other ways. Through growing up I learned to give all of the love I had, and through adventuring into adulthood I learned that love must be protected. So I restricted my love for people, I use the word to describe a certain fondness I have of special things I enjoy. For example, I love coffee and writing, I love the beach at sunrise and the woods at midnight. I love the the feeling of a warm hug and the smell of your cologne, I love the way my name delicately glides from over your tongue and between your teeth when you ask if i'm doing ok on a particularly rough day. I love how tenderly you cuddle our dog and I love the way your hair pokes out in every direction while you sleep. I love the vast blue skies that live within your eyes, stretching out over the hopes and dreams for the future I see within you. I love the gentle pressure of your hand on the small of my back as you guide me through a crowded place and I love the harsh gusto when you laugh a little too hard at a joke you made, never failing to follow up with the words "I'm just funny". It is because of all of these things that I cannot truly say I love you. I don't mean this as a way of me saying I do not love you, I, rather feel more than love for you.

There is not a word I can find to describe how I feel about you. I could write a book of essays longer than the dictionary, longer than any text known to man and I still would not have the space to eloquently express all of my feelings for you. I have never, in my 21 years of existence felt the way I feel about you. Never for another person, nor animal, nor thing. I love our dog, I love my plants, I love my mother, I love coffee and cloudy skies, and summer picnics on the beach, and long hikes in the middle of winter. I love the trees during fall and the crisp air that stings my lungs on a particularly cold morning. I love the feeling of the sand between my toes, and the wind in my hair, and a ball of snow in my hand. I love all of these things, but I do not love you. I more than love you, but not in a stupid cheesy I love you more way. This letter cannot be cheesy or corny because I love you too much. I am not a highschooler experiencing love for the first time and I am not a woman scorned by a previous lover. I am me, and you are you, and to me that is perfect.

I have never before experienced a person take up all of the space I hold for myself, I am very experienced in people taking my space. I am perfectly aware how it feels for a straight woman to take my seat at the table discussing my identiy and my interests. I am exceptionally informed of the feelings that come from elderly straight white men telling me what rights I do and do not receive on the basis of who I do and do not kiss. I have never before experienced someone take up 100% of the space I invite them into. You have stepped into my life and you've intertwined yourself in my world. When you first told me you loved me I believed you, what I did not understand in that moment. That first I love you was that you meant all of me. Over the past two years you have proven in the moments that matter that you do love all of me. You love me at 5 in the morning when I cannot sleep and you stay up with me to talk about random memories, you love me in the middle of the afternoon when I am having a rough day and I haven't gotten out of bed so you get back into bed and you cuddle me (despite your disdain for physical affection). You have loved me at my worst when I drop 60 pounds over 2 months and I tell you I'm fine and you gently remind me that I'm lying not only to you but also to myself. You have loved me when I chase a dream and you pick me up when I trip and fall on a crack you warned me would be there. You have loved me more than any one has loved me in my life, but you have not only loved me. You have loved me by loving my family, you have loved me by adopting a dog with me (and even though it was your idea) you have shown her patience and kindness when she needed it, even if she didn't necessarily deserve it. You have loved me by meeting all of my friends and loving them, even if it pained you to be put in social situations you otherwise would avoid. For these reasons, I would have always loved you, but I do not love you.

I do not like you, I do not love you. My feelings about you cannot be expressed in words, they must be explained by the things you are to me. You are the first cup of coffee in the morning, the sweet boost of exactly what I need in that moment. You are a sunrise over the water, you are blinding in the most beautiful, perfect way. You are our bed, you make me feel safe and comfortable. You are curtain call on opening night, the surprising support of all of my hard work. You are the touching of our fingertips, a gentle, innocent embrace. A delicate form of intimacy that means more to me than any amount of sex or passionate lust.

What I feel for you is complex. It is beyond sex, it has surpassed the lust many people our age have for eachother. What I feel for you is so far beyond lust it has circled back to feeling innocent, and pure to me. Our love feels like the cats cradle, that thing that kids used to do with yarn. I never understood it and that feels fitting. I don't understand our love and I think that's beautiful. I will never understand every reason you love me and that's okay with me. Our love is like walking out into a warm summers day from the air conditioned inside, it is immediate, and completely encapsulating. Our love is like a warm hug, or crawling into bed after your partner's already fallen asleep. It is warm, it feels safe, it is deeply comforting. I fear I may have started rambling two paragraphs ago, but I do not know how to eloquently express my feelings for you.

I will leave it at this. I do not like you, I do not love you. I feel more for you than words can say, I feel I have conveyed in the past 1,582 words that I do not have the capability to explain my feelings for you. Know that they are deeply passionate, intensely caring, positively fond. You are my world, you have become my world, you are my future, my future is defined by the ring I will one day wear around my finger, my future is the bottle of wine you will buy me to celebrate the publishing of my first book (or play whichever happens first). My future is the key to the first house we buy together. More important than any of this, my future is exactly where I will be in approximately 3 minutes; lying blissfully in your arms. I do not like you, I do not love you. But, in my own special way, I do.