Confession…

“Let’s go home.” I stare at you wondering if I heard you right. We’d been seeing each other for over six months. When we started out, you made it clear as day that this couldn’t get serious. And I agreed. After all, I didn’t need yet another failed relationship to add to my already 100% failure rate in relationships. It’s been a wonderful six months. Dinner dates, movies, short vacations, weekends away. There’s nothing to complain about.

Yet, I found myself getting restless. I caught myself thinking of a future with you. Of a home and hearth. Of appreciating a certain shared domesticity. And each time I pulled back. Until I could no longer take it. When I called you earlier in the day asking to meet, even I wasn’t sure I’d go the distance. But here I am. I ended up blurting out the truth in the most embarrassing way possible. “I don’t want this to be a fling. Let’s end it now because otherwise I’ll just fall deeper and deeper in love with you.”

You stared at me for a minute before replying, “Let’s go home.” I stare at you, not sure if I heard you right. Do you want to drop me home? I ask. “No. I want to take you home. To my place.” But why? You’ve never invited me before. Your eyes never leave mine as you reply. “Because there’s no going back now. I’m already in love with you. And you deserve more than dinner dates and vacations in fancy resorts.”