Intellectual cunt

You can think about things too much. You taught me that you intellectual cunt. All those years ago when I met you I told you I didn't believe in love. It's a construct I said. A need that is all about you and nothing about the person you supposedly love.

All the while my heart was jumping out my chest.

With time I realised thinking too much takes the joy out of life. I realised this when dancing to Abba with a thoughtless disregard for my dignity. Accepting something at face value has its merits. It is supposed to be a natural emotion after all.

Eight years pass. Now you are the intellectual with a raft of questions. I answer one & it creates more. Like the hydra of legend. It is paralysis by analysis & the cause of our love remaining in stasis for most of the last eight years.

And how do I know I am not overestimating my pull on you? Because you light up like a lantern when you see me you beautiful stubborn intellectual cunt.