I’m not a very thoughtful person.
I’ll forget your birthday more often than I’ll remember it and the chances of you getting a gift of something you already have should not go unconsidered.
I don’t know what you’d order from a Big Chill menu off the top of my head and I might forget what condiments go on our Subway sandwich.
I might invite you to a party your ex-with-the-stalker-tendency is attending, because I was too caught up in my dreamland to notice.
Your allergies could slip my mind, and if you get me flustered, I might mix up your name with someone, who I’ll swear looks a lot like you.
By all conventional standards, quite the antithesis of thoughtful and emphatic, amn’t I.
But if it interests you, hang on for a second longer and let me tell you –
I can tell the day by the shirt you’re wearing, and I know every time your stylist gives you a bad haircut, even if I don’t mention it.
I know exactly how you like to be hugged, to be held firmly, warmly, silently. I’ll never be the first to let go.
I can tell when you’re misquoting yourself, because I remember it down to punctuation. Downside – I can outweigh you, uncomfortably, on an inconsistent lie.
I can tell apart your happy smile from your emphatic smile from your pity smile from your cocky smile from your I-need-to-fake-it-for-favor smile.
I get a five second heads up from the glint in your eye when you’re about to fire up or break down and I’ll know exactly what not to say.
What does that count for?
You tell me.