Page 66 of Dirty Reads

EIGHTEEN

Dick

MAKING a conscious decision to be in a relationship isn’t love, nor should it be confused as such. Being blindsided by heartfelt emotion and reacting based on those feelings, however, may be.

I made a conscious decision with Becky Baxter in ninth grade. It ended poorly. I believed I was in love, and Becky believed she wanted to make her previous boyfriend jealous. Being unaware of the previous boyfriend, and of her plan, I was shocked when the relationship abruptly ended, leaving me with a broken heart and nowhere to stick my over-anxious teenage dick.

The failed relationship nor the lesson in love ruined me from ever being in a meaningful relationship, but I always remembered it whenever I took the time to consider whether or not a relationship was a viable option.

With Jess, I had no time to consider. After close to a month, something just happened. The right time. The perfect person. I had no idea, all I knew was that I felt differently about her.

And it wasn’t a decision I made.

“Love is blank. Finish that sentence.”

“If I had to define it? Like make my own definition?” she asked.

“Yeah. Like shoot from the hip.”

“I’m not good at this shit.”

I twirled the spatula in my hand and admired her makeshift pajamas – my sweat pants and one of my white V-neck tee shirts. “Do your best.”

“Love is when someone else’s needs, wants, and desires come before your own,” she said. “How’s that?”

I shook the skillet and checked the consistency of the scrambled eggs. “Pretty good.”

“Okay, now you.”

Although I had asked the question, I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I’d be. “Okay. Gimme a minute.”

I stirred the eggs, decided they were done, and pulled the skillet from the stove. After I prepared the plates and we sat down, I took a bite and considered my response. Explaining how I felt, and how I had changed in the last month would be easier, but it wasn’t necessarily what I was prepared to do.

I looked up from my plate. She was eating like she hadn’t had a meal in days. I wondered if our previous night’s sexual romp burned all of the calories she had in reserve. To go from living alone for my entire adult life to having her share a morning with me was a huge change, and watching her do simple things like eat or get dressed was rewarding.

I cleared my throat. “Love is when someone steps into your life, and instead of complicating it, they complete it.”

She looked up from her plate. Her mouth was full of food. She didn’t wait to swallow it before she commented. “Fat wuf fuckin awfumm.”

I laughed. “What?”

She swallowed, took a drink of milk, and cleared her throat. “That was fucking awesome.”

I took a make believe bow in recognition of her praise.

“Love is staying committed even when the other person loses devotion,” she said.

I raised my eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

She shook her head. “Generic. That was generic. I wasn’t throwing stones.”

I poked a large chunk of scrambled eggs and lifted my fork to my mouth. “Love is recognizing all of the good in someone, seeing all the bad, and choosing to express the former and suppress the latter.”

“Holy shit, Dude, I like that one,” she said. Her eyes fell to her plate and she began to eat again. At about the time I wondered if we’d reached a point that we were done discussing the subject, she swallowed and fixed her eyes on mine. “Love is when your heart has feelings for a person that your mind is incapable of putting into words.”

“And on that note, we should stop,” I said. “That was good. I like that.”

She smiled. “You know what?”