I'm so afraid you'll be the kind of guy to say "I love you" in the exact right way at the exact right time when the candles are fizzing in their own puddles, never glancing at that piece of tantalizingly soft pale skin right above my slightly sagging purple velvet dress, opening all the doors and paying for all our insanely expensive dinners at Olive Garden-

the kind of guy that will never keep me waiting for more than three minutes-

or say that no, you'd rather have cheese pizza because you secretly don't like pepperoni even though you know I love it, and I don't know what to say because

                    that's the kind of guy I've always wanted and it would be silly to think that I would love if once,
                    just once,
                                        you would be the kind of guy that forgot my birthday until the last minute and gave me his sock as a gift.