Frankly Told: Love v.5
The water drowned out all the noises around them as they sat in the new attraction of the city; a restaurant with a waterfall feature. He had picked that spot right next to it not to show off but out of his curiosity. She probably didn’t know that and he would never tell.
About half an hour in, he had satiated that itch and it became white noise that drifted ever so subtly into the background. She became the centre of his focus. Her black dress, which seemed like a terrible choice with the heat that the city had been experiencing, sparkled with the light that bounced off the water. She had this slight touch of makeup that pulled out her eyes from her face in the most seductive way. He could hardly look away. Her skin glowed like freshly cut obsidian.
She twirled her fork into the pasta and using a spoon, guided the tangled bunch of wheaty goodness to her mouth. She had been so prim and proper, it made him want to be as well. So much so, that he asked for a fork and knife for his sandwich and potato wedges. She chewed and covered her mouth, batting her eyelashes at him. Taking it as a cue, he stopped in his tracks and waited for whatever she seemed ready to say.
“I have a question,” she started, having swallowed her bite. “I know it’s a bit of a heavy one for a first date-”
“We are way past that point,” he interrupted. “I would like to think we left that like an hour into this.”
She shot him a look and he chuckled.
“Go on,” he gestured with his fork.
“Like I was saying, I’m just curious,” she put down her utensils. “What would you say it’s like to be loved by you? Like, what’s the experience that someone would have if they were to be under your love? Or better yet what would one of your exes say.”
“Oh,” he raised an eyebrow. “That’s a loaded question. Packs a punch.”
She smiled, pleased with herself at the segue in conversation. He is so easy to talk to, she thought. He put down his utensils and stroked his beard. After a minute or two of silence, he nodded and readjusted himself in his seat.
“You asked for it, so get comfortable,” he teased. “To be loved by me is a wonder. Heck, it should be one of eight… is it? The eight wonders of the world.”
His confusion over his own humour caused her to giggle.
“That’s besides the point,” he continued, waving away the thought. “To be loved by me is to be and feel special. I don’t “love” many people in my life and every one of those people still has a love that is for them.”
It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. She crossed her arms in amusement.
“Lemme cook,” he threw in. “I know you are not asking generally, so to be loved by me romantically… is what you have right here in front of you.”
She gasped.
“I kid,” he quickly slid in with a cheeky smirk. “Or… Do I?”
He paused for a second in the joke and the smile slowly faded from his lips causing hers to follow closely behind.
“It is what you have right in front of you,” he repeated, in a more serious tone. “It is fun and jokes that have you sheepishly smiling. It is having someone with whom you can have a good time even with serious times here and there. It is someone who you can trust will listen to you enough to know when to joke and when to be serious.”
“To be loved by me,” he exhaled. “Is to have every door opened for you. It is to have that cheesy romcom kind of love. The ones that make you cringe but on the other hand smile because how can something so corny be real life? But it is. It is to explore every single cliche from long walks on the beach, to picnics in the park, to dancing in the rain, you name it.”
“Eh,” she exclaimed.
“To be loved by me,” he smiled softly. “Is to have an umbrella for the rainy days. It is to have that hand to hold when walking through a crowd. It is the shoulder to lean on in times of need. It is to have a space to lay all your worries to rest if only for a little while. It is to share that space.”
She leaned forward into his words. The look in his eyes told of a tired heart. His voice seemed so unwavering, it was alluring.
“To be loved by me,” he picked up his fork and knife. “Is to be triggered. All your insecurities and traumas; not because you are reliving them but because they are fighting their way out of you. It is looking forward to marriage. So know that if you are trying to open this door, I only accept that as the outcome.”
He stabbed a potato wedge and dripped it into the pool of sauce he had poured before devouring it in one bit.
“Hmm,” was all that she could muster.
There was silence whilst he chewed. However, true to the trend, no uncomfortable silence. She searched within herself but found no anxieties. An odd first date, perhaps owed to the familiarity she felt with him. Not her pattern but a safety she hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Like many things,” he added. “That is just but the tip of the iceberg. Let’s flip this on you. I ask the same question because if I keep saying my green flags we will be here until tomorrow.”
She scoffed.
“Haiya, this is not an interview,” he teased. “Why don’t you tell me what it’s like to be loved by you?”
She smiled cunningly.
“How many relationships did you say you’ve been in?” She asked.
“Four, yeah?” She answered herself before he could say anything.
“To be loved by me,” she picked up her glass of sweet red and twirled it before taking a sip.
“Is love v.5.”
