02.01.25

I want to have secrets with you for the rest of my life.

I want to stand on the sides of parties and exchange bitchy little comments about everyone else there. I want us to be flagrantly mean and searingly honest and know that the other person will never tell anyone who shouldn’t know what we said. I want us to want to make each other laugh.

I want to giggle as quietly as we can, pushing tears from our eyes and rubbing out sore jaws. I want to make and have jokes that we would never repeat to anyone else. I want to touch you and for only you to know that I did it.

I want to be able to just say what I want to say and trust that you’ll be there to receive it. I want to debrief after parties.

I want to quietly swear each other to secrecy, sort of like children but with adult earnestness, and promise not to tell anyone, ever, honest. I want us to gossip with friends and then gossip with each other about the friends’ gossip.

I want to be candid and crass. I want to make eye contact across the room and smile and wink at each other. I want it to be sweet or funny or silly or sexy or whatever else it wants to be but it is, more than anything, just ours. I want us to be playful, hot, quiet. I want to want to stay places because you’re there. I want to know I’m leaving with you.

I want to share secrets, keys, side dishes, cigarettes, beds, schedules, rides to the hospital, private laughter, sweaters, everything — with you. For the rest of my life.