When a man loves a woman is a whole lot different than when a woman loves a man. To me it is anyway. What does this whole “love” mean anyway? When you love someone, does that mean you have to tell them? How do you know that it is really love? What if it’s just that “like” disease that keeps going around? How are we supposed to know the difference?! I do know that the person you’re thinking of, the one that won’t leave your head. The one whose face you think about every morning. What they said the other day still makes you smile. This could be the one that you stalk every day, which means that you’re way too overly in love with them and that it’s time to abandon ship.
So maybe I just like them. Maybe I only think of them sometimes. They still bring that stupid smile to my face whenever I see them. They also bring a quake to my heart when I think of them no knowing. I think of what might happen if they did know, though. How I, the type that has no problem dancing, sober on street corners, would feel.
I have sent out my winks, my hellos, my “what’s up’s'”, on my dating sites that I have about given up on. I have left my phone number for the guys that I have talked to at bars or been served to at Taco Bells. Yet, I cannot seem to express these emotions for someone whom I have known for what feels like forever. I feel I was so young with the one. For another, I feel I was, I do not know. His eyes and his smile always pull me in.
I can leave my number on the table for my waiter, yet I can’t leave a post-it on their doors. Perhaps a postcard is the answer! I can be the best with my words in writing, since I would re-write my emotions eight times. Or, maybe just be very blunt: I LIKE YOU, in big black ink. I would send it with no return address and make sure to post mark it from Novi. Check and make. My puzzle is solved, my life can now go on! Maybe I should tell one. Or let my Faiths decide. I just wish they would hurry.