"I was still trying to impress you, and still wanted to be impressed by you, so i could pass along pieces of your impressiveness in stories to my friend, convincing myself this was possible."

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I must remind myself that you look at others because they're interesting, not because you're interested, and that I do it too."

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Like the evershifting sky, your body yields surprises to me, tiny markers I have never noticed, designs within designs."

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I'd never had to teach someone how to travel before. Drugging you up for the airplane, dragging you hither and thither through Montreal, Seattle, San Francisco. Your parents never took you on trips as a kid, not when they were together and not when they were apart, and I think this left your sense of exploration stunted. At least, that's my theory. Eventually I won you over to the geography of wandering. Although I will admit that for you the best part is still napping in the middle of the day."

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We all have that touch point, the place we reach for without knowing it. For you, it's my wrist. For me, your shoulder."

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Every time I call you mine, I feel like I'm forcing it, as if saying it can make it so. As if I'm reminding you, and reminding the universe: mine. As if that one word from me could have that kind of power."

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I still don't know if this is a good quality or a bad one, to be able to be in the moment and then step out of it. Not just during sex, or while talking, or kissing. I don't deliberately pull away - I don't think I do - But i find myself suddenly there on the outside, unable to lose myself in where I am. You catch me sometimes. You'll say I'm drifting off, and I'll apologize, trying to snap back to the present. But I should say this: Even when I detach, I care. You can be separated from a thing and still care about it. If I wanted to detach completely, I would move my body away. I would stop the conversation midsentence. I would leave the bed. Instead, I hover over it for a second. I glance off in another direction. But I always glance back at you."

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It was the way you said, "I have something to tell you." I could feel the magic drain from the room."

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Nights when I need to sleep and you can't. Days when I want to talk to you and you won't. Hours when every noise you make interferes with my silence. Weeks when there is a buzzing in the air, and we both pretend we don't hear it."

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I imagine you saved my life. And then I wonder if I'm just imagining it."

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That's the dilemma, isn't it? When you're single, and there's the sadness and joy of only me. And when you're paired, there's the sadness and joy of only you."

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I try not to think about us growing old together, mostly because I try not to think about growing old at all. Both things - The years passing, the years together - are too enormous to contemplate. But one morning, I gave in. You were asleep, and I imagined you older and older. You hair graying, your skin folded and creased, your breath catching. And I found myself thinking: If this continues, if this goes on, then when i die, your memories by me will be my greatest accomplishment. Your memories will be my most lasting impression."

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I want to take back at least half of the "I love you"s, because I didn't mean them as much as the other ones. I want to take back the book of artsy photos I gave you, because you didn't get it and said it was hipster trash. I want to talk back what I said about you being an emotional zombie. I want to take back the time I called "honey" in front of your sister and you looked like I had just shown her pictures of us having sex. I want to take back the wineglass I broke when I was mad, because it was a nice wineglass and the argument would have ended anyway. I want to take back the trust I had while you were away in Austin. I want to take back the time I said you were a genius, because I was being sarcastic and I should have just said you'd hurt my feelings. I want to take back the secrets I told you so I can decide now whether to tell them to you again. I want to take back the piece of me that lies in you, to see if I truly miss it. I want to take back at least half the "I love you"s, because it feels safer that way."

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I don't want to be the strong one, but I don't want to be the weak one, either. why does it feel like it's always one or the other? When we embrace, one of the us is always holding the other a little tighter."

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It surprised me - surprises me still - that you were the first one to say it. I was innocent, in a way, expecting those three words to appear boldface with music. But instead, it was such an ordinary moment: The movie was over, and I stood up to turn off the TV. A few minutes had passed form the end of the final credits, and we'd been sitting there on the couch, your legs over mine, the side of your hand touching the side of my hand. The video stopped and the screen turned blue. "I'll get it," I said, and was halfway to the television when you said, "I love you."

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