Every time I wind up back at your door

[An Open Letter to Micaiah]

To my dear, my sweet, my lovely:

Sometimes, I appear to hate you.

The animosity I express when recounting tales of broken promises and poor decisions and exgirlfriends, the blame I place for past possibly immoral conduct and current romantic misfortunes, the memories of horrific name calling and swearing and the red handprint I left on across your face; it all might lead some to the conclusion that I don't like you.

And then I tell my friends that I'm done speaking to you and beg them to not allow me to even have a thought about considering Oklahoma State University.

All in all, I make a very poor case for you.

But when I was floundering in possible depression, you gave me your number. I had no need for it, having not lost my contacts nor ever forgetting the only number I will have memorized forever. But still, it was a sign that it was okay for me to text the college boy that I have thought I'd lost so many times before.

In a stunning reversal of roles, you helped me when I was broken down and hopeless and plain old silly. You told me that I had worth and that I am good at making people happy. When I sarcastically agreed that I was doing such a great job at that with myself, you made a sad face. You tried and succeeded at making me smile. You offered help, though there was clearly nothing you could do. You even said you'd take me on a proper date if I could ever make it to Oklahoma.

I will hold you to that. Though it's practically impossible for me to make it down there, I WILL hold you to it.

So many times before, I've said that I'm done with you. My heart has been broken so many times by you that the pieces don't really fit together anymore. But it's times like these, when I need you the most, that I realize that we did, and do, have something good going on.

I've known for a long time that you're a liability. I've also known for just as long that you are priceless. Wonderful. Irreplaceable. My first kiss and, so far, my last. I will always care about you, and though it's sometimes harder to see, you will always care about me.

But don't flatter yourself too much, dear. I'm not in love with you. Like, at all. Thank goodness, for both of our sakes.

I love you, lovely.

Sincerely, the pug