I have been dating a wonderful man for three months—not dating really, more like visiting, sharing, writing to each other, holding hands, and laughing; yes, lots of laughing. What is this exactly? I wonder. Friendship, kinship, romance? “You’re it,” he said once. I should have been ecstatic. Instead I think, What is It? What is Its definition? Then another time, he called me his girlfriend. I should have been pleased. Instead, Does that mean I’m a friend who’s a girl? Or does that mean we’re an item? The answer to these questions is simple, as I collide into my boundless insecurity that stares me down, daring me to feel happy.
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