Country music poured through the speakers of my sister’s car as I sat silently in the backseat. Although I hated country music, the grating twang wasn’t bothering me. My thoughts were preoccupied with unanswerable, circling questions.
A battle ensued between my mind and my gut. Rational vs. irrational thought. Soon enough, I began to question everything I was feeling.
Exhausted with my loop of thought, I decided to rely on the closest objective source I had. Google.
Opening the app, I tapped away the main question.
“When is the right time to say ‘I love you’?”
I was reminded of the stupidity, the naivety and angst of such a question. Adults reminisced about their first loves and high school sweethearts inside the forums I scoured.
Ultimately, I found that there was no such thing as the right time to proclaim your love someone for the first time. All I could do was trust my intuition, and act on my gut.
I locked my phone with a sigh, feeling like I’d wasted my time. Back at square one within my thoughts.
I knew I loved my boyfriend, Chris. But trusting my gut on when I should say something didn’t feel so simple.
I wondered what it was like to be an adult. To have years without teenage hormones, and a lack of angsty permanence. Permanence meaning what I’m thinking and feeling now seems like it will last forever.
Our brains don’t fully develop until we’re about 25. That’s where this everlasting feeling comes from. So I felt stranded and angry with the elder wisdom that I couldn’t yet comprehend.
Later that week, sleepy, deep breathing lingered in my room laced with green LED lights. It was completely silent, but my mind raced once more. I felt completely removed from the green shine and lazy comfort.
With a dull neon hue cascading over his skin, I dragged my fingers over Chris’ back, connecting his freckles like dots. As I created a nonsense picture, I tried to connect my thoughts.
Coughs and hiccups bubbled in my throat instead, leaving words balancing on the end of my tongue. Maybe I should’ve asked if it was normal to feel so terrified when you’re about to say ‘I love you,’ instead of asking when I should say it.
With a deep breath, I focused. I told Chris to pay attention to what I was tracing over his back. Sweeping my index back and upwards, I began the cursive phrase.
“I,” he mumbled. Washing my hand over his back, I signaled for the next word.
Hesitation flooded my fingernails. What will his reaction be? What if this is too soon? Looking back, it’s silly to even question it.
Curving the end of ‘e,’ it was Chris’ turn to hesitate. Instead of repeating the word back to me, a smile crept onto his lips as he called me a nerd, a term of endearment.
My heart slowed, feeling a bit like the moment was ruined, but also like it was better than any adult could’ve predicted. My hands fell to the mattress as he rolled to face me.
Pulling me into a kiss, my rapid thoughts halted. He cupped my cheeks and moved to kiss my forehead, and returned the phrase easily. He didn’t have to worry or question his intuition. He just knew, and acted on his gut.
Who knows if it was the right time or place, but it felt right to me. The innocent naivety masqued any sort of regret or fear. My gut was right, but I let myself get worked up with hypotheticals. I could’ve avoided the anxiety if I simply trusted what I felt.
Sometimes you don’t get a straightforward answer through deep thought and hours spent being pensive. Sometimes the answer you need, the right answer in fact, can only come from your heart.
