I like this one girl because when I stop pretending to be manly, her lipstick disappears. I like her because she has lipstick that she almost never uses. I like this girl because her lipstick is subtle.
I like her because she has treated me badly and I have done the same to her. I like her because she knows it’s okay to argue. This girl is nice because she doesn’t know she’s pretty. And she’s pretty because she only sometimes smiles, so she surprises me with little white teeth.
I like this girl because she listens without always understanding, and doesn’t get mad when I’m skirting the issue. I like her because she skirts the issue too, and because she tries to hide her motives. I like her because her motives aren’t malicious.
I like this one girl because I like her, and for the first time this seems quite logical. I like her because I do not miss anyone else. I like her because she could do terrible things if she wanted, but she’s busy kissing me.
I like her because when I tease her, she takes it. And when she cries she seems scared, as if I were the most terrifying thing in the world. And she loves me because she knows I am not.
The girl I like knows I am not a rock. But she didn’t always have proof. And I like this girl because when I gave her proof, it was not a scientific breakthrough. She did not publish the results. She kissed me.
I like this girl because I have liked many more girls than she is comfortable with, and because when I mention them she goes quiet. I like her because she would like me to keep my mouth shut, and when I do, I see that she’s right.
And I like her because the next time I see her, I will probably hide how happy I am to see her. But she’ll know, and that’s why I like her.