I like foreheads and backs and hand squeezes because they’re stronger than hand holds, and though I like those too, I can feel a hand squeeze in my heart and sometimes between my legs so I like those more.
I like to trace. I like niches and crevices and imperfections and skin scent. I like caresses and soft kisses and lips and hair. I like to bite. Sometimes I love someone so much I want to bite them. It’s weird.
I like to let go. I like to feel safe and reassured and held. I like to be held. These are things we are told we shouldn’t like. Independence: yes. Strength: yes. Vulnerability: no. But why? What is love if not letting go and not feeling ashamed about it?
I like being someone’s human. I like to care for someone more than I care for anyone else and I like to fix the bad things and alleviate them of the stress of being alive. I forgot how much I like being someone’s human, but I like this most of all.
I like to complement. I’ve never believed that people with similar personalities fall in love. I mean, it might happen, but I doubt it would be as electric as a complementary love. I like to be the heart to someone’s head and sometimes even the head to their heart, balancing, but never overstepping. Loving, but never undermining, and always injecting emotional perspective into their otherwise salient rationales.
I like necks. Necks are everything. Skin scented embraces. I like to bury my nose in them. I like to have a nose buried in mine—it makes me laugh uncontrollably and fall in love and have to pee all at once. Necks are hellos and goodbyes. Hellos for when you’re so excited to see someone and you want to be as close to them as you possibly can, breathing them in and feeling their heartbeat if you’re both still enough. Goodbyes for when you can’t bear to let them go and it feels like it’s ending—like death, so you stay in their neck a little bit longer just to convince yourself that they still have a pulse.
I like humans. I don’t know if I believe in fate anymore, but I’m a romantic, and I think that the world has many humans for us if we’re willing to look for them and be vulnerable and complementary and not afraid to bury our noses in their necks.
There’s a human for you and for everyone but we don’t know how many there are so if you’re lucky enough to find one, be their human too and keep falling in love with them forever because that’s how we, intuitively, want these stories to end I think.