Listen — I know you want me to walk away from this. Walking away would make it all so easy. But I can’t. I can’t because if I do — if I turn around and walk through those elevator doors — you might forget about me in literally ten minutes. I mean hey, I get it — can you really know someone in two short years? Maybe it’s my fault. I never asked you to remember my mother’s name, or my middle name, or even my last name. But if I’m your Ally, then Ally is enough for me.
[He begins to yawn]
Don’t! Please don’t say one of those adorable things you say like, “Hey” or, “Do you want pizza,” or “Your body’s pretty good.” If I don’t get this out right now then I never will because it’s so difficult to be in the same room as you unless we’re having sex or getting ready to have sex.
Now I know — I know you’re too good for me. Everyone likes your rugged sensibilities and your no-nonsense temperament that leaves zero room for emotional intimacy. But nobody knows you like I know you. They don’t know that your fridge only has beer and cheese in it. They don’t know how it feels to be curled up next to you for warmth when you need “human burrito” time. They don’t know how to get into your apartment through the back door, and they certainly don’t know how close I feel to you when you ignore me in this elevator.
But I do. I know and I’m the one who gets to love you. The real you.
Now please don’t freak out — I’m not asking for much. You don’t have to tell your friends about me, and you don’t have to walk into the hospital at the same time as me. I’ve been late every day for the past six months so that we wouldn’t raise suspicions, and I’ll keep doing that until the day I die if it means getting to sleep next to you for thirty minutes after sex three times a week for the rest of my life. I get that you need to “spread out” in your own bed, and I’m happy to drive myself home only to pick you up in the morning. But please, please — if you have any feelings for me — any at all — delete your Tinder account. Accept my FB friend request. Pick me. Choose to “hang out” with just me. Like me.