Out Loud
We realised that text messages are often misinterpreted due to a lack of meaningful context. Particularly among people who are prone to an abnormal degree of over-analysis. However, we also realised that it is much easier to text certain things than to say them. And so, in our eternal genius, we began to send each other subtext messages. The rules: texts are to be sent only in each other’s presence, and only if accompanied by context-revealing facial expressions. No ironic bullshit. After all, what does an ironic face look like? I think we actually had this discussion, but of course, conversations about faces in this day and age teeter so precariously on the edge of that insufferable meme progression. And we really wanted to avoid bringing your mother into the discussion, even as a joke, seeing as she is so soberingly homophobic.
I remember that the texting started off as a beautiful thing. We were sitting on the sand at that beach near my place, the waves so grunge I could barely hear you. And, instead of shouting, you texted me,
- Your collarbone is totally sexy. Put your arms around me.
You were so soft, and the sky was so incredible at that moment I couldn’t speak. I remember there’d been a storm the day before. Bits of driftwood and a destroyed beanbag lay limp and exhausted in the shallows, styrofoam beads strewn Pollockesque along the shore. I started telling you about the pacific trash vortex and about how plastic never completely breaks down. You said, how terrible. You texted,
- Then we should make our weddings rings out of plastic.
I also remember it being fucked. You were standing in my room. No, sitting on the bed, ignoring me, ignoring my amazing stupid jokes, looking at your phone. Calling your mum to tell her you were at a friend’s place.
I said, ‘I’m not closing these blinds to be sleazy. It’s just a nicer light with them closed.’
‘Yeah, oh… oh I didn’t even think of that, haha.’
- When will you tell your family?
- I don’t know.
- If it’s so awkward, you could text it to them
- Can’t you ever be serious
- I am. Just do something. I can’t stand it being so secret
My eyes fierce. Yours furious but fightless, frustrated, leaking.
- You’re not worth it.
I don’t know what I was expecting. We never had one real fight. With real words, with real yelling. So maybe I thought that it wouldn’t really end. But the worst part is I can’t remember if I ever told you that I loved you out loud. So here it is.
I loved you out loud.
