I still like you.
Even though I know I probably shouldn’t. Most days, you’re miles away. Literally or figuratively, take your pick. There’s nothing star crossed about this, though. Just distance. Just space.
My brain doesn’t seem to get the memo. It keeps factoring you into future plans. It imagines some moment when timing works out and we’re in the same zip code and there’s no longer a reason to keep us apart. Trust me, I tell it to stop. But it just continues, month after month.
The way I feel about you is annoying. Seriously. It’s not romantic, doesn’t make me giddy. It bugs me. It creeps in when I’m trying to do other things and makes it impossible to focus. It’s like you’re a song they overplay on the radio. I can act like I’m tired of it. I might even complain about it. I make jokes. I turn off the radio whenever it comes on.
But it’s still somewhere in the back of my mind. And a glass or two of chardonnay later, I’m humming it. I’m singing it in the shower and cursing myself for not being able to get rid of it.
I can’t get rid of you.
Even though I’m tired of it. Even though I’ve heard this same damn tune one too many times and I know I should change the channel. The lyrics keep coming back to me.
You text and I text right back.
You kiss and I kiss right back.
You come into town and I scramble trying to clear my schedule.
The more guys I meet, the more I feel myself coming back to you.
Maybe my heart is stubborn or masochistic or downright stupid. Maybe, and I hate admitting this, I actually like the idea of being unhappy and letting my feelings for you fester is a symptom of that.
Whatever the case, there’s one thing I know for sure.
I still like you. And it’s annoying as hell.