What Is Love?
Daisy didn't even notice, that first time. But as the weeks went on the pattern began to eat at her.
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Prompt from PrideOnThePage
Daisy didn’t even notice, that first time.
When she blurted out “I love you” and Rowen gawped, blindsided, then relaxed into a movie-star grin and took her hands and said “Aw” her nerves were overwhelming.
So when he continued “You’re amazing, Daz. Wanna date?” she was too giddy with relief to think about his phrasing.
But as the weeks went on the pattern began to eat at her. Every time she said “I love you” he’d smile into her eyes and say “Aw”, and squeeze her hand or hug her or kiss her forehead. The rest of his response varied.
“I’m so glad you’re my girlfriend.”
“Being together makes me so happy.”
“You’re such a wonderful person.”
But never, never “I love you too”.
Confusion swallowed turned into uncertainty. Uncertainty bred resentment. Resentment gnawed and thrashed against her ribs until one day it burst from her mouth to attack yet another of his emotional side-steps.
“Don’t you love me?”
Rowen faltered. His arm dropped from her shoulders and he took a half-step back, as if the force of her gaze repelled him.
Go on, say it! The knot in her chest screamed, and she was sure he could hear.
He looked away. Whispered “I don’t know.”
Daisy’s breath caught. A slap to the heart. It shattered the knot into a thousand sharp shards that clawed at her insides.
What had she done wrong? What was wrong with him? Why had this happened?
Rowen continued “I, I don’t think I feel about you the way you feel about me. I’ve never felt that way. Towards anyone. When other guys are talking about their girls, I just… I don’t understand it. Used to think it was all just, just flowery language, you know? Exaggerating. But apparently not. They do feel that way. I don’t. But…”
He tentatively reached for her hand, and when she yanked it away he left his hanging. A wordless plea stretched between them. “I meant everything I’ve said to you. I promise. I didn’t say I loved you because I was scared it’d be a lie, so I told you truths.”
Daisy folded her arms and searched his eyes. Feeling lost.
He was present and tender and fun. Affectionate. Respectful. Always made her feel cherished, never made her feel unsafe. Her friends said she was a lucky girl.
But… if he didn’t love her, what was the point?
“I am really glad to be dating you.” He was tearing up. “I’m grateful to have you in my life, every day. I swear I wasn’t trying to, to use you. I just… I can’t feel that way. I’m sorry.”
His hand dropped to his side. Leaving a gulf between them.
Daisy took a deep breath. Trying to sort through the maelstrom in her mind. “Is that what ‘love’ means for you, then? Just… being happy that we’re together?”
“I guess.” Rowen mumbled.
“Mm.” Daisy twirled hair tightly around one finger. “I… gotta go. I, um, I’ll call you.”
Prompt was “Language”
[For aromantic people, ‘I love you’ is often a heavy phrase and the slogan ‘love is love’ actually makes us feel excluded. Because what society deems “love” (usually people are talking about romantic love specifically) is a narrow category that not everyone experiences.
If my ‘love’ is very different to yours, is it still legal tender? Or is it worthless? Does someone’s love have to match a certain shape before they’re ‘allowed’ to enter into a loving relationship? Queerness answers “YES, NO, NO!” and that’s part of why I embrace the identity.]