Choosing

When I choose you,
I choose everything that goes with you.
All of the accessories.

I choose your kisses and your boyish smile and your searching eyes.
I choose your land of dreams, where everything is topsy-turvy and crazy and wonderful and new.
I choose being tickled and teased.
I choose your political rants and your sweet (but false) attempts to agree to disagree.
I choose your intelligence and your passion for things that make you passionate.
I choose the weird way our hands fit together and the nights we sit up for hours talking about this and that... just talking.
I choose your earnestness and your gentleness and the way you listen when I need to vent about something that is only important to me.
I choose the way you try just for me, because I'm important to you and that melts my heart.

By choosing you,
I choose everything that goes with you.
All of the accessories.


I also have to choose your incredibly chauvinistic friends, who belittle my sex (and by association, me) with every other word out of their mouths.
I also have to choose your World of Warcraft, simply because the two of you can't be separated by mortal means, even if it keeps me from spooning and snuggling in the night.
I also have to choose to not go on dates, since you're not much for planning them, and even if you were, funds are meager at best.
I also have to choose to keep company with you, even on weekends when you could be studying or looking for a job, since I like having you for a date.
I also have to choose to face those piggish friends of yours knowing that when I'm not around, you're chatting up other girls, which in effect means I'm choosing the humiliation it causes me to feel.
I also have to choose to throw a fit or to kiss your smelly, gross face when you choose to smoke.
I also have to choose to buy my own flowers.
I also have to choose to accept these things (and you) as they are, or to continue to push and to pull and to expect and to work through them.

By choosing you,
I choose everything that goes with you.
All of the accessories.

Choosing to associate with you and everything that you do...
That's asking a lot.
I do lots of crazy stuff myself,
and I have a hard enough time being saddled to me,
let alone someone else.

I'm not so sure that it's asking too much, necessarily,
but it is certainly asking a lot.

Every so often, being so choosy wears me out... like now.

Sarah :: Plucky in Love

Sarah, aka "Plucky", blogs on the reg, unless she's on vacation or there's a Pretty Little Liars marathon or she's mulling over the implications of the phrase "on fleek." She can't live without iced coffee, a portable phone charger, or equal pay. Say hello!

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