Tell Me You Love Me

“I love you so much right now,” he said, pulling me closer for a kiss. I shuddered as his lips touched mine and his tongue licked the insides of my mouth. “Tell me you love me,” he said after I pulled away from the kiss. Did the shuddering got him thinking that I enjoyed it, too? “Uh……,” I hesitated. “Just say it.” “...... no.” He let go of his death grip on me. His eyes fell. I met them with mine for a split second, and then I looked away. “No? What do you mean no?” he whined as if I am his mother who just took his internet privileges away and wouldn’t give them back. “No,” I said again, because he clearly didn’t fully understand the message the first time around. “Wh-why?” “Because if you love someone, you’re not supposed to tell lies.” He arched an eyebrow at me, as if I was telling a paradoxical joke. I might have been. “So do you love me or not?!” I knew this was coming. Where’s the escape when you need one? “Yes, I do, but……” “But what?” “It’s just that I don’t really love you as much as YOU love me, as much as you want me to. I mean, I’m not ready to go further with you yet. It’s too soon.” He heaved a long sigh, the kind of sigh that tells you you’re gonna get it for not letting him have his way. “How long would it take for you to be ready?” he asked me, as if it was an unquestionable duty to be EXACTLY on the same page with your partner even though you’ve been dating for, like, less than five months. “As long as I need, I guess?” came my meek reply. “How long?” he demanded, towering over me, hands on hips. “I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! But if you wanna know something, I don’t like the way you kiss me. It’s so…… wet.” “Really? You don’t like it?” “No,” I said, and this time it ain’t a lie, or a half-truth. “Why are you criticising me?” “I’m NOT criticising you! I’m just telling you what I don’t like so that you can change it for my sake.” “I never criticised you before, you know that? I’ve never passed remarks on things like, your body, NEVER before. And now you DARE do this to me.” “What’s the matter with you?!” I screamed and pushed him away. “Can’t take a little criticism, can ya?” He said nothing. He turned away from me as if I had just said to him the most offending thing he had ever heard. “B-Bryan?” I whimpered. What is he going to do or say now? I braced myself for it. He turned back and faced me. He stepped towards me and put both heavyweight hands on my fragile shoulders. “Lynn, I love you. So please don’t say bad things about my gift for you, okay?” “Okay……,” but not because I liked his wet, sloppy, potentially infectious “gift” in any way, but that I rather not argue any more with this emotionally irresponsible and unpredictable sadboy. “Good. Now tell me, do you love me? One more time.” “Y-y-yes.” “Do you mean it? Do you REALLY mean it? Like, do you feel as much about me as I do for you?” “Yes, I have more feelings than before now. About 40%,” I said, not lying. “Good.” And he proceeded to kiss me in that less-than-decent way again. “That’s very good.” And he hugged me. I sighed inaudibly. I’m not out of the woods yet, I thought. How am I supposed to carry on life with this less-than-decent-looking person who believes love is a feeling and not a decision?