Perhaps it’s my age or that I’ve grown up. I cannot do casual. It is either all or nothing.

I would rather smack your arm playfully than nod politely at what you say.

I would rather have my pulse race rapidly and my heart in my throat at the first sight of you looking at me with your trademark scowl than sigh in relief at your ordinary and assuring smile.

I would rather be strangely drawn to the most inner working of your mind and secrets etched to your soul than be impressed with your scripted tales of bold conquest and glittering success.

I would rather have you see me as I am, flawed and human, than hear your exaggerated claim of my beauty and intelligence.

I would rather have you shoot me dirty looks of annoyance and speak your mind than stare at your perfectly blank composed face and listen to your smoothing affirmations and compliments.

I would rather have you drown me in your attention and suffocate me with your affection than accept your diluted version of the socially conventional love you deem suitable.

I would rather fight with you in the rain and kiss and make up with you than experience the perfect facade of love with volumes of silence and distance between us.

I would rather be with you who will move heaven and earth to be with me and terrify me with your intensity than you who will bow out of my life easily at my unpredictability.

For love is not supposed to be perfect.

It is chaotic, messy, and hard work.

At the end of the day, I just want you who, despite your brutal honesty and roughness, is willing to build a future with me.

Not the you who, despite all your glamorous promises and good intentions, is unable to.