3 minutes ago
You hated spaghetti. I loved it. I think I loved it more because you hated it. More than my plate, I loved watching struggling with yours. You would keep playing with your fork trying to capture just the right amount of spaghetti on it and you would fail each time. And I laughed every time you did. Because well your nose looked utterly cute and your eyes really kissable. I know I sound like a 23 year old cheesy hopeless romantic but maybe I am. Hopeless. And romantic. You would keep turning your fork and all your food would keep slipping off it. I swear, it was the best part of our dinner dates, just watching you curse me for ordering it and yet trying to look sophisticated in a restaurant full of people. Also, now I know why you always order french fries. No expectations, no rules, just great food. That's who you are to me I guess. No expectations, no rules, just a great relationship. You're french fries. And I'm probably spaghetti. Difficult to deal with but I promise I'll make it worth your while. Don't give up on me yet. I know I'm a struggle, but I'm still glad you give me a shot every time.