I wish that one day I can have a kitchen with someone.
Share a house. A life. That I can have that special connection
that so many other people have. Maybe I match people for a
living because I just can’t find my own match. Or when I find
it, I can’t hold onto it. Maybe I’m compensating.
Maybe I just wanted to imagine that life with Steph. I
told myself not to, but that didn’t stop me from doing it. I saw
all those scenarios, us sharing everything. Getting up in the
morning together. Talking about our day at the end of it.
Eating dinner together. Finding hobbies we like. Going to bed
together. Loving each other. One person can be so many
things. Can represent so much. I wanted Steph to be those
things for me. It felt so right when I was with her that it really
felt like she might be the one, if such a person even exists and
that’s not just romantic nonsense. I can feel it slipping away
into total nothingness.
This is exactly why I couldn’t bring myself to think
about it before, but now it’s here, and I can’t not think about it.
“Is something wrong? I thought this was good news.”
Steph is legitimately puzzled.
“It’s just that it’s easy to want to go back to…well, you
know. If things don’t turn out like we want them to.”
A deep line appears between Steph’s brows. “I’m
disappointed that you’d even say something like that. I thought
you’d be happy. I’ve been waiting to do this for nearly two
decades. To tell my family. To be who I am. To feel free. To
get on with living my life. I’m finally starting to do that and
it’s like you don’t even want me to.”
“I want you to.”
“Then why aren’t you excited? Why don’t you trust