We met at that sushi place on Seventh Avenue and I awkwardly shook her hand, then told her I'd heard so much about her, which came off like me trying to legitimize your friendship, when I was the one who needed to get the stamp of approval. You'd made it clear she was the only friend whose opinion you really cared about, so I spent more time getting dressed for her than I ever had for you.

'It's just what I've always done,' you said. You looked at me like I was the worst kind of slacker. 'We're only going to get back in it later tonight.' 'Why do you always make the bed?' I asked. But really, aren't they just guilty of infidelity? We think of them as hiding in the hills – rebels, ransackers, rogue revolutionaries. No matter how many words there are, there will never be enough. Trying to write about love is ultimately like trying to have a dictionary represent life. These words will ultimately end up being the barest of reflections, devoid of the sensations words cannot convey. It was so surprising, I knew I would never mimic it. That first night, you took your finger and pointed to the top of my head, then traced a line between my eyes, down my nose, over my lips, down my neck, to the center of my chest. Everyone else was playing along, but I was sure that one day they would all stop. It wasn't as easy as hearing voices – nobody was telling me this. That deep-seeded feeling that I wasn't good enough for anything – I was a fake at my job, I wasn't your equal, my friends would forget me if I moved away for a month. You had to save me from my constant doubts.

I couldn't help it – I didn't open any of them, but I did look at who they were from, and was relieved. Had we tried to plan these excursions, they never would have worked. You notice clothes more than I do, so it's a pleasure to hear your running commentary, to construct lives out of worn handbags or shirts opened one button too low. So what better reason for me to take you to lunch and then keep you at lunch for the whole afternoon? Reserving these afternoons to do all the city things we never get around to doing – wandering through MoMA, stopping in at the Hayden Planetarium, hopping onto the Staten Island Ferry and riding back and forth, back and forth, watching all the people as they unknowingly parade for us. We never talked about it, but we were at a party and someone asked how long we'd been together, and when you said, 'A month and a half,' I knew we had gotten there.

That might have been the first true commitment, this shift in terminology.

We stopped counting our relationship in dates (first date, second date, fifth date, seventh) and started counting it in months. 'I can't believe how wasted I was.Īnd I tell you I'll help.

Novel by david levithan