Written on 12 November 2018
“Love is never having to say I'm sorry.” He looked eagerly at me for confirmation.
“That only works if you don't do anything you need to apologise for.” I said, going back to my XBox. “Try again.” He screwed his face up in concentration.
“Love is knowing everything about the other person.” He'd been at it for over an hour. The dregs of my coffee were now far too cold to drink. Turning on the console had been my last feeble attempt to end the conversation.
“Roughly how many times do I have to change tampons on an average period?” He grimaced, and went back to thinking.
“Love is feeling completely vulnerable with someone.”
“I think you got that from Good Will Hunting.” I said, capturing another coin on my game. “Try again.”
This was my fault. I didn't quite know what to do when he told me he loved me over our morning croissants, so I blurted out “What even is love?” The poor, sweet, simple boy next to me hadn’t realised the question was rhetorical. And he didn't seem to want to drop it.
“Love is only a feeling.” I paused the game for a moment.
“I think that's a song by The Darkness.” he looked a little grumpy now.
“Fine, why don't you tell me what it is if you're so smart?”
It was time to think quickly. What could I possibly say that would end this conversation. What is love? What is love? What is love? Baby don't hurt me. Don't hurt me. No more.
“Love is not hurting each other.” I said nonchalantly. I tried to go back to my game, but he'd grabbed my hand, grinning.
“In which case, I really do love you. I'd never do anything to hurt you.”
It was time for drastic measures.
“I honestly can't promise the same thing.” I said, pityingly, and for whatever reason I decided to lunge at him, sinking my teeth into his cold little nose.