I know it’s not your fault.

I know you had zero say in how your dad’s sperm did its damn thing with your mom’s egg. I know you had no control in how that combination resulted in you – a gorgeous specimen.

…And I know you’re probably now uncomfortable because I just mentioned your parent’s having sex.

Sorry. But also, kudos to them. Good job. They did WORK.

But here’s the thing, I’m going to need you to do me a favor.

I’m going to need you to stop your face from doing that thing where it looks really good ALL THE TIME. It’s incredibly distracting and I’m trying to concentrate on other things. I’m trying to live my life, you know?

How am I supposed to be productive with you standing there looking like you do?

Whenever you smile, I think I’m having a heart attack. The tingling in my arm. The lightheadedness. I’m ready to call a doctor.

Baby, you have no idea what you do to me.

I want to kiss every freckle until I figure out some sort of pattern. I want to trace every vein, explore every patch of skin.

See what I mean???

How am I supposed to do ANYTHING other than think about you and all the things we could be doing?

Darling, you’re more beautiful than words will ever do justice. All I can think of is your mouth and eyes and that I lose my goddamn mind whenever you look at me.

How am I supposed to get anything done just knowing someone like you exists?