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Illustration | Belinda Hoang
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Terms of endearment
I knew I had a crush on you from the moment I ___(past tense verb) you. You had ___(adjective) hair, ___(colour) eyes, and a/an ___(adjective) smile. My ___(part of body) would ___(verb) every time I’d hear your ___(adjective) laugh. I’d ___(verb) thinking about your ___(adjective) arms and your masculine ___(part of body), and how ___(adjective) you smelled. You’d ___(adverb) help anyone in need, and were always there to lend a ___(part of body). You’d always ___(adverb) come up with ___(plural noun) that would make all our friends laugh. I knew I had to get your ___(noun), so one day I finally ___(past tense verb) up the courage and asked for it. You looked so ___(adjective)! But luckily, we exchanged ___(plural noun), and began ___(verb ending in -ing) all the time.
We began ___(social media, ending in -ing) for months. Every day, without fail, I’d receive a/an ___(adjective) series of close-ups of your ___(body part, something appropriate) with puns typed across. Crush aside, at first I didn’t take them seriously. I figured you were just one of those ___(adjective, something like nerdy) guys who’d found someone he could easily riff off of, and in that respect I was ___(adjective, somewhere between charmed and irritated) to oblige. It was only when my ___(plural noun, a wonderful bunch) pointed out that our continuous ___(verb ending in -ing) probably meant you just had it ___(adjective) for me, and that I shouldn’t get ___(verb ending in -ed, something messy) with someone in our group of friends. But our ___(adjective, maybe something that feels meaningful) conversation never seemed to be able to ___(verb, you know, when it gets boring or weird), and I found myself growing ___(adjective, describing cold sweaty armpits) whenever it seemed to pause. Whenever I thought about you, I’d feel ___, ___, and ___ (emotions, choose one extremely positive, one extremely negative, and one somewhere in the middle). I knew then that our ___(noun, what would you call this?) should and would eventually pay off.
I’ve always had that frame of mind: every ___(emotion, feeling, instinct, tickle, taste), regardless of its randomness or impulsivity, must eventually be reckoned with, for the cosmic ___(noun, a kind of mess) that’ll build up in your mind will surely ___(adjective, not good). It becomes hard work, making sense of different feelings of ___, ___, ___(what are you feeling?) that without care or notice knock on your door. Sometimes it’d feel like a game, where emotions like ___, ___, and ___ (provide an interesting mix, surprise yourself here) would be comically penciled into my daily perspective of you, landing me anywhere between distress and contentment. Does that mean my ___(noun) for you was borne from reckless emoting? No, at least, it didn’t feel reckless when I compressed all these feelings into my suggestion to you that we ___(verb, as appropriate as you’re comfortable with), nor did it feel impulsive when we then kept meeting up nearly every day of the ___(season, the warmest) thereafter.
The least arbitrary I’ve ever felt with you was that night we left that ___(noun, an event) and walked our friend home through sleepy downtown ___(city name), and we saw that lone coyote standing in the park. I was in shock; I wondered if you too were transported back ___(days, weeks, months?) earlier, when we were really just friends, when this relationship was still just a small choir of ___, ___, and ___(what were you feeling, what were you singing?) in my head. Remember? You had driven me home late one night, and running parallel to us under parking lot lights across the street were two ___ (probably coyotes, but they were as big as wolves). We were both amazed at the secret wildness that we were fortunate enough to have witnessed, and when you left me at my door I couldn’t help but dream of ___(other quiet moments we could one day share). And now, having had many unnamed quiet moments, at the climax of our courtship, a lonely dog confronts us and the mess of ___(a plural word that modifies a noun), ___(a plural word that is the subject of a verb), and ___(a plural word that typically expresses an action) we’d been using like Lego bricks to construct our fantasy romance. The cosmic sign was clear enough to me: it was time to address it.
With our friend dropped off, we took an Uber to my neighbourhood and hung out in a field near my house. Our crossed legs bumping together in the damp summer grass and the air feeling like the temperature of my own body, I couldn’t be sure where my limbs began and stopped. Your face was gentle and dim in the summer night light; I fondly remember the way your laugh kept getting caught in your chest, giving away your shyness like a gift to me. ___(term of endearment, the one I always call you), I ___(verb) you for asking me out first. I ___(verb) you for taking those ___(deceptive), ___(surprising), and ___(utterly ridiculous) moments and turning them into a story with me, making sense of sensation and proving the ever universal magic love inspires. I ___(verb) you for recklessly and impulsively emoting, and choosing to do that with me. We exchanged promises, and couldn’t stop laughing because of all the cool air suddenly filling our bodies, making us float an inch or two off the ground. Since then, I continue to consider every word carefully.
I recognize each time I seize up with a blush, a shout, or a shiver, and cherish each feeling dearly for they are all fundamental to the story of our ___(you know).
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