You don’t even know me.

Start rant.

I am the girl who prefers one rose over a dozen.  I don’t want twelve reminders that wilt after three days.  I only want a plastic symbol of your affection, one that will stand the test of time and will remain in constant bloom as a constant expression of the love you have for me.  I don’t want a handful of flowers that can be easily forgotten in the vase as they rot and just as easily thrown away into the garbage with your pictures and your gifts.  One will suffice.  It may be artificial and it may be garishly red, but it will last.  And it will suffice.

I am the girl who would rather stay in on a Friday night than go and party with a bunch of random strangers.  Confession: I would much rather watch Netflix than observe people I don’t even know get drunk with people they don’t even know.  Even better, I’d rather call you.  But it’s okay if I’m alone.  I would much rather make homemade root beer floats by myself and curl among the blankets and contemplate whether or not I’ll ever get another boyfriend before succumbing to another marathon of Disney movies.  I’d rather be alone in my bedroom than lonely in a crowded room, sticky with alcohol, sweaty with the bodies of people unknown to me.

I am the girl who would rather stay up all night telling secrets than going out and getting drunk.  I’d would much rather remember my whole night than waste in alcohol-blurred oblivion.  I want to know everything about you.  Those stories that embarrass you, those dirty truths that you wouldn’t tell anyone else, your hopes and dreams and what you want to do with your life, those inner questions that gnaw at your mind, the extremes of your entire life.  Tell me those things.  In return, I’ll tell you mine.  I’ll make you pinky promise not to tell anyone and I’ll do the same.

I am the girl who would rather enjoy a movie night in rather than a fancy restaurant.  You bet this is true.  First, it gives me an opportunity to demonstrate my superb cooking skills to you.  The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, after all.  Secondly, it gives us a chance to cuddle.  I’m a big cuddler.  I’ll even watch the movie of your choice as long as you help me do the dishes and clean up the kitchen before wrapping me up in a blanket and holding me in your arms.  While I appreciate the fancy restaurant every once in awhile, I would much rather stare at you in the light of the television than in the candlelight of a steakhouse.

I am the girl who wouldn’t make you wait on her hand and foot but would do anything to make you happy.  I’m a big girl.  I can do things for myself.  You’re a big boy and you can do the same — but that doesn’t mean that I want you to.  I want to help you, I want to come alongside you and remind you what it’s like to have a friend who’s only concern is you and your happiness.  I want to be the one to make you smile again when gloom hovers over your day like storm clouds.  I want to be the one to run to the store to buy ginger ale, crackers, and chicken noodle soup when you’re sick.  And when I’m sick, you can hold my hair if you want.  Just know that even if I’m sick, I’m as equally embarrassed that you would have to see me in that state.

I am the girl who wouldn’t make you hold her bags, but rather hold my hand instead.  Remember, I’m a big girl and I can do it on my own.  I don’t usually have very many bags to begin with.  Please just hold my hand.  All the time.  Give me a physical reminder that you are by my side and will stay there.  Ingrain in my memory the fact that I am not alone and I will never have to be.  Show me that your fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between mine.

I am the girl who would give the world to see you smile.  I am the girl who would love you more than you could possible dream.  I am worth the chase and the effort to keep me.  I can only be your princess if you make me a priority.  That’s how this thing works.  Give me no reason to doubt your love and I will always stay.  I am loyal but I am not stupid.  If you act like you don’t want me, then I will assume you don’t.  Treat me as if I’m an option and I’ll narrow your choices down and leave.  And when I finally do what is best for me, sit down and accept it.  If you thought that I would swallow your disrespect without a fight, then you don’t even know me.  If you knew me, you would know that once I’ve resolved to leaving, then there’s nothing to it all really.

You don’t even know me.

End rant.


2 thoughts on “You don’t even know me.

  1. Christy says:

    Sydney it looks like we’ve got a lot in common girl 🙂 I like your style. And id love to read your book when finished. Hugs!

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