There’s this thing I do when I’ve been hanging out with someone I love. Usually, it’s Simon, but sometimes it’s one of my girlfriends. We’ll be sitting in the living room, talking seriously about something, or walking by the river, having a good belly laugh. Either way, we’re having a great time. And when they’ve left me – to go to work, back home, wherever – I get my phone out and send a quick text. Before they’ve even been gone a minute; before they’re out of sight.
The texts say:
“You’re so fun. I love you.”
“I’m so glad we’re friends.”
“You are the hottest man on the planet.” (That one is mostly for Simon.)
It’s a reflex, really. And it’s just something I do when I’m excited about how much I love someone.
The other day, Adlai and I were playing on the floor in our living room. He was an airplane. I was the air. Or the jet propeller. Whatever. I was whatever makes an airplane go. It’s not important. He was laughing, and because he was laughing, I was laughing.
A few minutes later, I put him down for his afternoon nap and, as I walked down the stairs, I pulled my phone from my pocket. Before I knew it, my thumb was pressing keys. It must have taken me a good ten seconds to realize what I was doing.