You could make me brownies 1000 times and I would still love you. And I mean that in the least gay way possible.

Must be:

Funny
Sarcastic
Able to understand my sarcasm 150% of the time
Kind
Compassionate
Intelligent (which means that he must have a basic understanding of grammar with high understanding in mathematics and science and/or high understanding in grammar and basic or minimal understanding in mathematics and science)
Respectful (he must understand why I don't want to have sex, he must respect my beliefs, he must respect my family, my mother, father, sister, friends, life in general)

He must like me, a lot.

He shouldn't have to think about it.

He shouldn't be afraid of me.

He should be able to tell me the truth.

I should be able to trust him from the start.

He should respect me enough to tell me the truth.

It was one of the first things I told him. "I have trouble trusting and I want to trust you, but you have to be honest with me or else it will never work." I am not a jealous person. I am not, but break my trust and you can say goodbye to me ever having faith in you again. This is true. About 80% of the time. Which is why my feelings towards you make no sense.

You first had to "think" about dating me.

Then you told me kissing me "felt wrong" which not only made me feel stupid, but also made me question your intentions and the person you really were.

Later, you constantly put me at the bottom of your priorities.

You almost broke up with me in the beginning of August. You didn't and I took you back, happily. (WTF?)

I told you I loved you. You told me you had to think about it.

You came up to visit me at college with a tin of brownies (I have always, will always, hate brownies) and then we argued about Jake...again. Because you didn't trust me.

And then you broke up with me. Explained how at home you felt less pressured without me there. I felt like a rapist. Fucking shit. Sure, making you uncomfortable became almost a sport for me, but it was only a sport. It was never a serious feeling.




You made me brownies. And I still loved you.


Eighty percent of our relationship you were making brownies for me and I was still loving you. Twenty percent of our relationship you were being a wonderful boyfriend. You were making me feel special. You were just being the lovely person that I wanted so badly to be a part of and you were letting me be a part of it. I can remember moments, play by play, when you were perfect and you didn't even know it.

You whispered, "Excuse me honey" once and I actually died.

Alanah saw it.

You know in old language and phrases how the word swoon is used? Like, women would swoon all the time. Just drop into the arms of men, because obviously they are unable of doing anything else. It sounds really gay, but it's true. Women would "swoon."

I had never swooned before that moment. It was like, you just said one thing and suddenly I felt weak in the knees and I considered fainting. (I didn't of course because that would be ridiculous.) But after so many years of laughing at the idea of "swooning" I finally did. And I felt dumb. But I couldn't even help it.

And I think that's the key. No matter how gay it is, my guy should be able to make me swoon, so easily. Just like that. You called me honey and I broke into a million little pieces, all over Josh's carpet. And there was no one there to put me back together because you didn't come back to that place enough. There was the time during ten minute plays, when I saw you and you were so excited to see me.

I swooned then too.

Or after senior banquet when you called me amazing.

Yup, then too.

But every time, I just kept breaking up inside. Happily, uncontrollably and then this side would disappear from your personality and no one would be there to pick me up. So I would just sit there. Broken. On the carpet. Probably crying because by this point I would be upset, again that you didn't seem to care, but there it is.

Must be:

Able to be one person at all times. Make me swoon. Pick up the pieces afterwards and hold me, comfort me, so that I form back together as a person and know you'll be back after you leave. I'm so sick of turning around for a split second and then turning back around to find you gone, again.

So must stay in one place and be one person. That's all I'm asking for the next one. One place, one person, because I've only got one heart and I'm really sick of people messing with it.