I don’t know why I keep getting all of these romantic words–I use a random number generator to figure out which of the 600+ words in my vocabulary list I’ll be writing about, and then keep generating numbers until I find a word that strikes me as interesting in that moment. The random number generator and my list of vocabulary are conspiring to make me write nothing but sappy mush.
Honestly: I love sappy mush. I find it incredibly difficult to express without dramatic understatement or sarcasm, but I can’t get enough of love stories. I’m particular about them–very particular–but I love reading romance if it’s about characters I care about.
Grand, romantic gestures are fine, but I like stories and poems that explore the smaller moments. Clementine von Radics does this particularly well in number ten of her Ten Love Letters (all of which are lovely, but, as a warning, number five concerns sexual assault):
I know you and I are not about poems or other sentimental bullshit, but I have to tell you even the way you drink your coffee just knocks me the fuck out.
That’s my kind of love poem.