When asked to talk about love, I think of the purest love I know. Not between my parents or
distant relatives that I speak to at weddings on occasion. Instead, the two people in my life who
understand each other without a word spoken, without a single utterance or nod of the head.
Every day, I wake up to an empty mug with the letter t on it, with the exception of a lemon and
ginger teabag that sits in the bottom, waiting for its recipient to wake up: their partner knows how
much they appreciate a lie in. Next to it, a neon pink post-it note with a small scribble: get to class
on time. ily., followed by another initial and a heart that barely looks like a heart - but you know
what it is and you know how many of them litter post-it notes in the room down the hall. Occasionally, one will catch your dressing gown as you pass the bedroom door.
Then at lunchtime, if they’re both home, I witness a stolen forehead kiss and an I plugged your
laptop in for you because the tea lover knows how much their partner forgets to charge
everything. They’ll play footsie under the table when I think I’m not paying attention. But it
doesn’t matter. I’ll watch when the spare Airpod is plucked from the case and slid into the other
person’s ear and when an extra potato is put on the other person’s plate with the quietest I’m full,
which they both know is a lie but that doesn’t concern either of them as the plates are collected
and the extra potato is consumed.
There are gentle words of reassurances when there’s a spider in the house, even though I’ll be the
man of the house and end up wrestling with the creature that’s crawling in the tub with no mercy
for them, when there’s a scary movie on the television that night, and anyone else would think any
excuse for them to be even closer to each other. But I don’t mind, when on occasion I pass the
bedroom and hear them laughing at their stories of the day’s events. I love when I hear about one
of their days first and they’ll go I can’t wait to tell them when we get home.
It’s fascinating going out with them. I’ll walk slightly ahead of them or by their side when the
pavement allows, and their fingers will brush but never attach. They’ll exchange a little look and
walk a bit closer, and I wonder sometimes if somebody walking past would even think they were
together at all. I think they prefer it that way. There was one time that one of them, the carefree
but certainly more protective partner, placed a secure hand on their impulsive and uptight
partner’s hip to assist them up the stairs, knowing how clumsy they are, and then the latter held
the door open as they entered the building and for the rest of the day - knowing how much their
partner didn’t like touching public door handles. If someone was to have walked past at that
moment, I think they’d see what I do.
No. I know they’d see it.
I used to think that in a relationship, you had to put the other person’s needs above your own.
Except, their relationship - the type that doesn’t require romantic love to exist, only the focus and
dedication on the feelings that they do feel - would show anyone that you can put your own
oxygen mask on and have the confidence that the other person would do the same.
I loved a girl once. Her hair had a single wave, and she liked to wear it in a ponytail. Every
morning, she would eat a kiwi for breakfast with half a cup of yogurt and then blow-dry her fringe
straight. She didn’t like using pens that smudged, so for her birthday that year I bought her a
smudge-proof pen and enjoyed the handwritten letter she had written for me especially. Except, I
didn’t love her in a way that was memorable to my other lovers. Last year, a boy with round
glasses and a cheeky grin that could get him out of almost any situation caught my eye, and we
were together for two months. By the end, I could tell you his favourite colour was ash brown,
and that he didn’t like the sound felt pens made on paper, but I couldn’t tell you his habits. I
couldn’t tell you what smell he liked most, and what would make his nose turn upwards, or that
he scratched the back of his neck when he was nervous.
I have never experienced a love as deep as theirs - and so unique that even though it’s something
I want, I know I’ll never have a love quite like it.
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