J'aime ... je n'aime pas

I like gifts when they're sentimental and small, something I can hold in my hands and feel the memories pulsating within. I like attaching too much emotional value to inanimate objects because the real value of anything only comes to life with the thought we put into it. I don't like gifts when they come with an expectation, like a gift of money to a prostitute implies that she's now obligated to give you sex. I don't like expensive gifts that make you tread carefully with the giver from that moment on, because you don't want to offend him after he's done something so nice for you. You end up second guessing your actions and words around him, as if internally judging if your cheap shots live up to his weighty gift.

I don't like labels when it's describing the internal. I don't like how every label comes with its own host of stereotypes that we end up unconsciously trying to fit just because we know the people around us expect us to. I like labels when it's describing the external, like clothes and statuses and relationships. Armani. Baller. Boyfriend. I like how it gives us a safe zone to function in, how they let us know what to expect, without really defining the limits of our boundaries. They make me feel safe, secure, and even if its an illusion of security I'll take it for what it is.

I like chocolates when I'm drinking it out of a chocolate martini, and when I'm blindly picking it out of an assorted candy box. I like chocolates that come with Christmas and all the well-wishing cheer behind it, like tasting their joyous spirit in each cocoa-filled bite. I don't like chocolate when it comes with tears, like out of a sob-fest ice-cream binge. I don't like chocolates that comes with fruit-fillings, because stop trying to help us deceive ourselves - we're eating chocolate, lets stop pretending it's healthy.

I don't like you when you're ignoring me for work, when I'm reminded that time with me doesn't provide you with a paycheck - therefore time not spent working is time wasted. I don't like you when you make decisions for the both of us, then accuse me of only thinking of myself when your supposedly selfless decisions were centered around you. I don't like you when you thoughtlessly waste my efforts. But each time I turn to look at you and see you already staring at me, I like you a little bit more.