I hate your face sometimes.
Really. Truly. Hate it.
Completely. Absolutely. Wholeheartedly.
I’m even scared to look at it at the worst of times.
And on some days, some nights, some moments, I’ll actually actively try to avoid looking: I’ll avert my gaze, turn my head away, refuse to pick up your FaceTime call even though I know I will and so do you, so what’s the point in waiting, I may as well just pick up as soon as it rings.
I hate your face sometimes because I love it so much.
And do you know how annoying that is? The fact that I lose arguments with you because as soon as I glance at your fucking face, I find it so beautiful and so irresistible that I can’t help but fall in love again?
And so I implore you, darling, to please kindly turn your face away from mine when we debate – or better yet, to leave the room entirely so I can yell to you or call you on your phone,* just so, you know, I at least stand a chance at winning for once.
*But not FaceTime!