Late one night, my new boyfriend at the time and I were talking about some hard topics, like how I felt about myself as a person and how I can be very negative towards myself. When I looked in the mirror, I didn't see any value and this really bothered him. He took me into his arms and began explaining to me how much of an amazing person I was, that I treat him so well and he only wishes I could see myself through his eyes. He put so much of his heart into this conversation that his eyes began to water. I'd never seen him cry before. So, just as I hugged him tighter, he told me he loved me for the first time and that it was okay if I don't love him yet— he just wanted me to know.
*I'd never told a guy that I loved him before. I wasn't positive when he told me so I didn't say it back. Plus, we'd only been together a little while.*
About a week passed and I was over at his house. I can't remember what it was, but I said something really sweet and endearing to him. He hugged me and whispered something under his breath but I didn't quite catch it all. So I asked, "Pardon?" and he didn't respond. To this day, I still believe he told me he loved me for the second time.
*I started to think about whether I really did love him or not. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became. I could still feel the hurt and compassion when I saw his tears that night. I realized that I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to do everything I could so he wouldn't cry again and, if ever, he had to I know I was going to be there for him no matter what. The amount of drive and passion I had to just want to be by his side was proof enough. Now, all I had to do was tell him. But when?*
A few days passed, he came over to my house after work, and I knew I wanted to tell him that day. After we made love that night, I told him how much he meant to me and how I didn't want him to be hurt that I didn't say I loved him back right away. He responded with the same kind of appreciation and reassured me that he understood. He told me he loved me and he would never ask me to rush my feelings like that. He would be patient. After all, we were together, so all we had was time. As the hour grew later, he began to get tired, so I offered to make him a coffee for his long drive home. As I was making his coffee, I was trying to decide when the best time to tell him was. I wanted it to be perfect—the timing, the way I said it, the moment—but I was so nervous that I didn't want to mess it up, so I grabbed a little square of blue-coloured paper and wrote, "I Love You xoxo, K" on it. I didn't give it to him with his coffee. Instead, I waited until we were saying our goodbyes in the driveway. He gave me a tight hug and I pulled him in close by his jacket and gave him a kiss goodnight. I tucked my little piece of paper into his jacket pocket without him noticing. It wasn't until he got home that he found the paper and texted me that he loved me, too.
Now he tells me he loves me every day, and after almost a year, he still has that little blue piece of paper.