She's Adorable

She isn't going to think you're the sexiest man alive.

When she sees you she isn't going to feel this urge to knock you down and tear all your clothes off.

She won't think your glasses are almost as cute as your bow ties.

Or notice that your belt matches your shoes.

Perfectly.

She won't think it's cute the way you obsessively talk about cooking.

Or appreciate how hard you worked to make the risotto perfect.

She won't find it endearing the way you watch Star Trek on Netflix.

Or the fact that most of your "friends" are guys on the computer you play video games with.

She won't love the way you pat her on the head or hum when music isn't playing.

She won't understand that when you act put out having to hold her hand walking around the city you secretly delight in it even more than she does.

She also won't know you love hearing compliments even though you close your eyes and look away as though physically rejecting them.

She won't fit perfectly in the nook when she snuggles with you in your bed.

And she won't tell you how freakishly cold your feet are.

Even though they always are.

She won't start the water for your coffee in the morning.

Or understand that you won't talk until after you've had some.

She'll talk too much and make you feel like you're inadequate.

She'll wear ugly shoes and tell you her favorite restaurant is the Olive Garden.

She'll think you're weird for liking Enigma.

And for always taking pictures of your food.

And for the amount of time you spend talking and thinking about the condo you don't yet own. 

Or the Rolex.

Or the designer suits.

But you'll convince yourself it doesn't matter.

Because she's adorable.

Even if never as adorable as I used to be.