I stare at his last message. Something sweet hewantedbut couldn’t have. God, I want to ask. I want to know what he meant, if he’s talking about dessert or… something else. But I don’t. I decide to take the safer route.
@OneLastLine:
Ice cream that isn’t your favorite flavor should be a crime.
A little bubble pops up almost instantly, and it makes me smile in the dim light of my room.
@HalfWritten:
A crime, huh? I’ll report myself to the Dessert Police.
But you’re right… I’m still craving the real thing.
I hesitate, heart fluttering in the stupidest way possible.
@OneLastLine:
Well, I hope you get it eventually. Everyone deserves something sweet once in a while.
There’s a pause this time. I roll onto my side, staring at the screen like I can will it to light up again. When it does, my heart jumps.
@HalfWritten:
Do you ever feel like… it’s hard to find someone to share that sweetness with?
Like your standards are too high, or maybe life just doesn’t line up the way you want it to.
I exhale slowly, the honesty of it hitting me square in the chest.
@OneLastLine:
…All the time.
I think I’ve always had these high expectations, of life, of love, of the kind of person I’d want next to me, and then when it doesn’t happen, I wonder if I’m the problem.
His response takes a little longer, and when it comes, it’s like he’s peeling back a layer he doesn’t show anyone.
@HalfWritten:
I get that.
I want to be a dad one day. More than anything, I think. But my own dad… he wasn’t exactly the best example. Some days I wonder if I’d just repeat the same mistakes.
I press a hand over my heart. God. That is… heartbreakingly sweet. Vulnerable in a way most men I’ve ever dated would never admit, especially to someone they barely know.
@OneLastLine:
I don’t think that makes you weak.
I think it makes youaware, and that’s already half the battle.
Another pause.
@HalfWritten:
Maybe.
I just don’t want to give someone I love a reason to look at me the way I used to look at him.
