The Perfect Date

It's crazy that there are so many ways of saying the word 'Love'. 

In Dutch, it's liefde. In French it's amour. The Japanese say ai and the Germans say liebe.

The Latin people had a different word for every kind of love too. Caritas was the love you felt when giving charity. Ardor is a passionate, burning love. Complexus is the word for the connection you felt when with your partner. Adfectus is obviously the love you felt when giving or receiving affection and eros or amos is just plain 'ol sexual love.

But I'd like to be old school, retro and chivalrous if you will, and tell you that I kinda like you a whole awful lot.

It can be hard to put it into words sometimes, the way you make my heart pound when we share a look or how when you touch me I forget how to speak. You don't even know the feelings I feel and sometimes it's agonizing. It's even more so, knowing that I don't know yours.

I mean I know that you're with her and I know that the two of you are endlessly happy. But hey, if I were to dream as young girls do then she would be gone and you would pick up my pencils from the floor when they rolled over to your feet. You would make me pull out my textbook so we could share because you always forget yours. You would look at me differently and tell me I'm pretty. You would be bold and want to be seen with me.

And there behind the school, across from the parking lot, you'd tower over me while my back leans against a tree and you'd ask me to go out with you for some ice cream. As I go back home I'd melt just like the ice cream we'd be having moments later. 

We won't do much, just talk the night away like we always do. Never run out of topics of conversation, you and I. We'd see a street performer and dance with him. Feeling the sting of the autumn breeze on our faces we'd retreat to the nearest cafe and spend that smidge of time between dusk and dawn there with cups of crazy kinds of overly sugary coffee and great conversation. 

Somewhere during that time, you'd impulsively take my hand and my body would become hot. My heart would nearly burst and I would pull my hand away without thinking.

"What's wrong?" you ask.

"This all used to just be a fantasy. I guess touching you made it all too real," my hand will slip back into yours and you will smile.

And I guess that's a good thing, feeling this kind of love and knowing that it's all mine. However short this neverending moment may be.