A not-so-normal love story

Most of the time, I feel like a normal girl who likes a normal guy and that is all my normal story is about.

But there are those random instances, like when I was walking two blocks down from my house wearing my favorite blue dress while it was raining one day in June or when I was helping my mom with grocery shopping looking for a particular brand of ketchup at 2 PM on a Sunday, and it just hits me: how much I like you, that my heart overflows with this feeling and I do not know how to handle it. Is this still normal?

You said you’re not interested in being in a relationship with anyone. I (used to) say that all the time too. I think that’s why we became friends in the first place. Remember that day in the college library, when we agreed that Valentines Day is just a crappy holiday invented by capitalists in order to make money from people who will eventually realize the truth and hate Valentines too? We were sophomores at that time. Too young to hate on these things, your older sister would say. We, of course, didn’t care. The scary librarian with huge eyeglasses and tight bun shushed us as we agreed on each other, but we were laughing way too hard to stop. She hates us until now and I do not know if she was angry at us for being noisy or because she’s a firm believer of love and destiny.

For the past two years, we hated couples, cheesy flicks, PDAs, Valentines Day, matching shirts, monthsaries, weeksaries (just typing this one makes me cringe) and all other couple-y things in the world. My favorite holiday, aside from Christmas, is our Anti-Valentines Day: going to the park or to the mall on February 14, eating burgers and watching people. Me, writing about #lovestoriesgonewrong, and you, drawing whatever Anti-Valentines scenario you can imagine.

It surprised me how fast things changed. One day, for me, “not being in a relationship with anyone” meant “not being in a relationship with anyone but you.” How it exactly happened is beyond me.

No, Dean, don’t get me wrong. I do not want to do all those couple-y things with you. What I want is to continue hating all those things with you. That’s all. I am afraid that when you find out about this unusual feeling I have for you, I am no longer allowed to hate with you. Do you understand? Is that couple-y? Okay, that’s weird. I’m weird. This isn’t a normal story at all.

*This is a work of fiction.


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