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I Dare You To Love Me

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I dare you to love me when I’m sad. I dare you to love me when I am mad. I dare you to love me when I drop and break yet another mug. I dare you to love me when I am on a House of Cards marathon and I only stop for food, during which time I will look at the world as if I am Frank Underwood and the world is out to get me.

I dare you to love me even though it will feel as if I will never say those three sacred words back to you. I dare you to love me even when I cannot concentrate on what you are saying because we are in your room and I still think it is a mess despite that two minutes you make me wait outside as you rush to stuff your clothes in your closet. I dare you to love me and my allergy to pants. I dare you to love me and my tweets. I dare you to love me and my hair in the morning. I dare you to love me and my TV obsessions. I dare you to love me and my iTunes. I dare you to love me when I am blasting out Taylor Swift at full volume, and singing along as if John Mayer broke MY heart.

I dare you to love me and when you do — only when I know for sure that you do — I will allow myself to love you back. I will love you back with all my heart and my soul; I don’t do anything halfway. I will listen to you and I will be your shoulder to cry on. I will watch EPL matches with you, even though I love watching pretty much every other team sport except football.

I dare you to love me and in return, I will blow your mind. I will make you the best dinner I can make. I will let you win when we play Capture the Flag on Call of Duty. I will never play mind games. I will tell you when and why I am annoyed at you. And I will pretend to not know anything you don’t know about what goes on under the hood of the car, if that’s what you want.

I dare you to love me. Are you in?

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