In our years there have been many things I have taught Dean, and many things I have come to terms with, such as that he will never understand love, but he loves me in the odd form of loyalty he calls by the name. He will say things and do things not realizing or much caring about the implication to others, though he listens to my impute and (sometimes) applies it. In all, there is this cold comfort in knowing you are one hundred percent the only person he cares about other than himself. When dating a normal person, yeah you are the most important person to them, but are you the only, forever?
Among everything, the biggest problem he has is at night when it gets cold and I curl up against him. For the love of fuck he hates cuddling. To Dean, cuddling is hot and annoying and he feels more personal connection just sitting in the room with me. Those stray kisses that aren’t meant to lead to anything? I might as well kiss the dog because to him they are no different than a high five.
Don’t get me wrong, when he gets in the mood boy does he get passionate, but it’s like a switch and I can feel the result in his kiss, cold and stiff or warm and soft. Even then, EVEN THEN, when connected in the throws of love he says he feels no closer then now as I sit next to him and he scrolls through Instagram.
I’m getting ahead of myself, this is about cuddling. Though I am most definitely a self diagnosed cuddle monster, this is why he took me to pick out some dogs. In the end, I don’t mind terribly. When you hear someone you love say they feel no different toward you when making love than when eating cereal, you can take it to heart and feel, well, invisible, but I have come to the understanding that it means quite the opposite. It’s not that he doesn’t care when we are together, it’s that he cares 24/7. His feeling aren’t controlled by circumstance or brief emotion, but by choice, and I kinda like that.