Is it needy to crave your attention? Your arms linked around my waist when we stand in front of the stove, alternating between stirring the pasta sauce and kissing. Your hand in mine when we walk into the bar on a Friday night, and you introduce me to your friends. Your fingers running through my hair when we curl up on the couch on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Because I want to hear about your day—the sh*tty sandwich you got at the deli next door, the coworker who took another thirty minute bathroom break before lunch, the sedan with the duct-taped passenger door that cut you off on your way home.
Because I want your eye contact when we speak. No video games. No cell phones. No computer screens. Just me and you, your brown eyes locked on my face.
Is it needy to want you to do things with me? Because I don’t always want to be the one to make the plans, to pay for the dinner dates, to come up with things for the two of us to do. I want you to think ahead sometimes, to buy groceries, to make reservations, to grab my hand and pull me back to the car the second I walk in the front door, my night already mapped out.
Is it needy to want text messages? Some in the morning. Some during your lunch. Even a few at night, when we’re both driving home. Little things, ‘How’s your day, Babe?’ ‘Hey, just thinking of you.’ And even some messages back when I text you.
Because I want to hear what’s on your mind, the random things you’re thinking about, how your favorite pro basketball team’s doing, what you want to eat for dinner.
Because I want to hear your perspectives, and discover the way you think.
Because I want to be challenged to think differently, to argue with you about our passions and learn even more about each other.
Is it needy that I want you—physically and mentally, the good and the bad, the lazy days and the adventures?
Is it needy that I want you to love me as much as I love you?