Ugh.

It seems I like you a lot.

I mean, a lot a lot. Like, I think about you more than once in an hour. And don’t think that’s an insignificant amount. I’m a busy-ass person. I have shit to do. I have loose ends to tie up. I have projects to complete. I schedule my time very carefully, so devoting approximately five minutes of each hour to you says a lot about what you currently mean to me. Okay. It’s more than five minutes an hour. It’s ten. It’s probably more than ten. Sometimes less. It depends on the hour. I don’t know how many minutes an hour it is. Get off my back. Whatever. So I think you’re pretty cool. It’s no big deal. Except it is a big deal.

I’m kind of nuts about you. Not like, bend-over-backwards and give-up-my-whole-life-for-you nuts. I have priorities in order. I have my shit together. This is reality, not a low budget romcom, which means you aren’t the focal point of everything. I have a full life, and it’s thriving without you. Except it’s also thriving with you.

And it’s so damn ridiculously wonderful to have you along.

Because you make everything a solid 25% more awesome. I think that’s an acceptable percentage for now. If things were 50% more awesome around you, I’d know the rest of my life was pretty bleak. If they were 10% more awesome, you’d require some reconsidering. But 25% seems about right. 25% seems like the precise amount of awesome someone ought to add into your life. Recalculated once the honeymoon phase has concluded, of course. Don’t you agree?

So far, you seem to be working out for me. I hope I’m also working out for you. Because the thing is, I can’t get you off my mind. I get the sound of your laugh stuck in my head. I keep getting these weird impulses to buy things I think you would like or text you something sickeningly adorable. You make me feel all flustered and off-centered in a way that is frankly becoming statistically concerning. I think you might have worn down my defenses. I think you might have trampled straight through my boundaries. I think I may have accidentally rewritten my priority list to bump you problematically close to the top.

Because you make it so damn hard not to.

Because you show me more compassion than everyone else I know combined. Because you’re there whenever I need you, but absent whenever I need to be alone. Because you get me. Because I get you. Because when I’m around you, life feels a solid 42% easier, even though that percentage seems objectively too high. 

But you make me not want to recalculate.

You make me want to throw percentages right out the window. Because dammit, I think it really is 50% more awesome to have you around.

All the odds against it be damned.

May 16, 2026.