I was sitting on the couch one evening with my latest boo candidate, Devon. We’d just completed a fabulous dinner cooked by my hands and were enjoying some delicious wine selected by him, listening to the Maxwell station on Pandora (disclaimer: that station is full of nothing but baby-making music, so take the proper precautions before playing it). It was a wonderfully romantic evening.
Devon and I have been talking for a few weeks and things are going really well. He has the top qualities I’m looking for in a man. Smart, funny, caring, ambitious, spiritual. Not to mention he’s an extra tall piece of tasty dark chocolate with a rock hard a**. (Snap out of it Scarlett!!!)
The Isley Brothers’ “Living For the Love of You” was playing on my laptop. I was feeling it. Or maybe it was the 2 1/2 glasses of moscato. I’m not really sure. I’m comfortably cuddled up in Devon’s muscular arms. My head is light (again, possibly a result of the white wine). I lay it on his firm chest, close my eyes and say “I like you Devon.”
SCREEEEEEECH!!!!
Somehow someone dragged the needle across the digital version of the Isley Brothers’ classic record.
“Um… are you sure?” Devon asks me.
All I said was that I like him. LIKE. Not love. L-I-K-E, not L-O-V-E. Guess he just heard the L at the beginning and the E at the end and got confused. I could see how a dude would flip out if a girl said she loved him after less than a month. But that’s not what I said!
“Am I sure I like you?” I ask. “Of COURSE I’m sure! I said I like you. Not love. You seem like a nice guy and all. You seem cool. I like you. I like ice cream. I like flowers. I like lamp. I like chair.” I’m starting to sound like Brick Tamland from Anchorman.
Sadly readers, this was not the WORST reaction I had to my uttering of the other “L” word. The worst happened several years ago. I’d been dating this one dude for several months. We were laying in bed, cuddled up, enjoying the closeness. “I like you” I said. Crickets. No response from him at all. And he was one who was not typically at a loss for words.
There were a million things ole dude could have said at that time– “I think you’re a great person…” “Aw, aren’t you sweet!”… “Gee Scarlett, you’re so beautiful!” Any of these would have worked. But no response is the worst of all. Worse than even saying “I think you’re scum,” which is what I wanted to say to him.
Back to Devon now… He managed to rescue himself.
“I enjoy spending time with you too,” he said. “And when it comes to the Big L word, just so you know, I have no problem saying it out loud when that time comes.” I think I’ll keep him around and see if we get to that Big L word.
The Scarlett Letter 