This is the story of when I first tried to tell R I loved him, way back in the fall of 2004. Since then on one of our many subsequent trips back to San Diego, and at the very same spot on the beach, R insisted that he was the first to say "I love you" instead of the other way around. Even though I know that to not be true, since I BLOGGED about it and all, I didn't argue with him.
Ladies, if a man, especially a man like R, ever insists such a thing just let him go on ahead and believe it. Without further ado...
Right before we met up in San Diego, I felt a strong urge to tell R that I loved him. I held off though, because I knew we’d be seeing each other in a few days and I wanted to tell him in person. (Question: Is 3 months too early to tell someone you love them? I think it might be. I can’t be sure though because usually 90 days marks the point in my relationships where people stop being polite, they start getting real and I dump their ass.)
Back to the story. Picture it: the first night R and I got to California, we’re standing on the moonlit beach hugging each other. I’m thinking, “Oh my God, this is the perfect time to lay those 3 little bombs on him.” So I open my mouth and I say, “I think… I might… falling… you’re so awesome and… I just want to tell you…”
R looks down at me and he’s chuckling and he said something like, “I know what you’re trying to say and I feel the same.” And he grabs my hand and we start walking along the beach. At first I was pissed. I’m trying to look cute and you can’t look cute trudging along in heaps of dry sand. So I’m trudging and I’m fuming that R cut me off like he did. (See? Looking for shit to be mad about when I should be grateful he put me out of my misery.)
The rest of the trip, I was stumbling on the words not unlike I was stumbling in the sand so I resorted to saying, “Olive Juice.” I’d look at him and make a joke about it. Ollllllllive Juuuuuuice… Have you ever seen The Other Sister? Is it okay to laugh when you watch that movie? Cause I laugh my ass off whenever I see it.
Anyway, a couple more months go by and come to find out, the olive line annoys R. Like, nails on a chalkboard annoy. Psshaw. I don’t see why! But I had to think of another way to express myself, and fast. The olives were out… what to do, what to do!
I Google’d, I pondered, I Google’d again and I came upon this little guy here:
I email it to R with the words, “I loaf you.”
Oh, hush. Nobody ever accused me of being the brightest star in the sky. I’ll have you know the loaf was actually okay with R, he’s even sent the little love loaf back to me a few times when we’re arguing or just cause. Aww, cyber loaves of love.
R, to this day, will break out an "I loaf you" every now and again. My heart melts every time he does.