IC Contact Post

[mathemagier]

[Screened calls go straight to voicemail, where an impatient recording answers]

You've reached Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. Leave your name, number, and business if you expect a return call. Thank you.

Comments

[driftsintobuffetline]

You're going to drag me down into that inescapable pit of sap you're stuck in. For a man with no great love for the lies of poetry, you string together a pretty poetic phrase. That paragraph alone is better than any love poem I've ever read.

I will admit defeat: I'm not as eloquent as you, but I meant what I said in Hong Kong. And to say I'm glad to have met you understates everything that we are, and I pity the Newton Geiszler who somewhere, in some universe, has to go through his stupid life without you in it.

[mathemagier]

Well you did ask.

And I know you meant that. You know I wasn't going to tell you. I'd only just realized it after you gave me the watch. I thought it was most definitely too soon. But then of course you say that and well I certainly wasn't very eloquent then. A gift I may only possess in text form, it seems.

[driftsintobuffetline]

I did.

You know you didn't have to tell me? Not that I knew, I didn't--I knew you liked me, but I wasn't sure you-well, you know. I just mean, no pressure. You didn't have to say it back. Or not really back, because I didn't say it in those words, exactly, but.

Was it too soon? I mean, it just kind of came out and then there you go, it's out and proud and-- I almost told you a dozen times--but you know, telling a guy you love him on the first date seems a bit desperate, right--? Hell, after the first time, that's kind of a no, too. Or telling him when he's still standing there holding your coffee when you come back with your phone--or when you're watching him fold his sweater vests and arrange them by some system you don't fully understand but are pretty sure has to do with something obscure like thread-count...

Wow. Sorry, Hermann. This is what you're stuck with. A nerd who likes watching you fold your fucking laundry.

[mathemagier]

For the record, I'm going to maintain that you did say it first.

[And for the rest, there's just this warm, touched feeling]

I don't know, those last two sound ideal to me.

I had no idea you felt that way for so long. It seems like something I should have been aware of. But that may have been for the best. It took me some time after all. I'm glad for your patience.

And it's really not that complex: they go in the order I decide I'll wear them.

[driftsintobuffetline]

Oh good. Good. They are pretty damn ideal, aren't they--I could totally go for getting to say those words just any old time.

I'm just glad you came around.

That's it??? Now, see, you've ruined the mystery. There's nothing left for me to fantasize over. I'm sorry, Hermann. The magic is gone from our relationship. (Seriously? You PLAN your outfits IN THE DRAWERS? God, I'm dating a dork. I am dating the biggest fucking dork to ever exist.)