What is he like?
How does he dress?
What does he read?

The questions come flooding in like my feelings when I first saw him,
except instead of riding the wave,
I'm drowning in it.

Drowning in scrutinizing eyes,
curious mouth,
and women past their prime,
trying to live vicariously through me.

How old is he?
What's his major?
Where does he go to school?

A word of advice,
never start dating around the holidays,
you instantly become the center of attention.

There intentions are good,
but they hold my regard for them far to high.
Thinking, they can pass of fail the one I love like a school boy on an exam.
Thinking, they can void him like an unfavorable law.
Thinking, there opinion really matters to me.

Where is he from?
What does his parents do?
How long have you known him?

I humor them,
for these conversations can be fun sometimes,
I do love talking about him.

Though the questions are never ending,
as though we are in a ring,
and they are looking for an opening,
circling around me,
trying to find the week spot.

Interrogation me,
trying to make me crack,
for surely no boy can be so perfect.

Where does he work?
Does he watch sports?
What clubs is he in?

I do not understand why they feel so entitled to my life,
I do not understand when my happiness stopped being enough.
I do not understand when you became part of our relationship.

I love him,
and he loves me,
and everyone else will just have to live with that.

Approval be ******.