Couples get to hold each other over the back of the couch.
I want that.

Couples get to hold hands between the car and the building.
I want that.

Couples get to entangle their limbs as they sprawl on the sofa.
I want that.

Couples get to pet the band of exposed skin of their beloved's ankle as it rests in their lap.
I want that.

Couples know who their plus-one is going to be at the company holiday party.
I want that.

Dear you: I'm glad that, even intoxicated, you're aware enough to realize it might be less than considerate to tell the person who's loved you for longer than ze cares to admit all about how your bro offended you by pursuing the woman on whom you were crushing.  That wasn't the part that hurt.  The part that hurt was you saying "maybe he has more of a sex drive than I do" fourteen months after using my negligible interest in sex as your excuse for not dating me.  The part that hurt was two nights ago after the party when you made such a big deal about appreciating everything I do for you and all the ways I go out of my way for your benefit, and capping it with a dinner offer because you love me "as a friend."  Three times.

I know I'm not young, or cute, or pretty, or feminine.  But as long as people leave a space for me, I'm fucking there.  I'm fucking reliable, and generous, and caring, and considerate, and smart, and willing to compromise.  I carry a grudge, but I'm not vindictive, or passive aggressive, or mean.  I say please and thank you to wait-staff.  I give other drivers the benefit of the doubt (with just enough verbalized frustration to be funny).  I'm not hard to demonstrate affection to -- the list is right up there ^^^

I don't demand every second of attention when I'm with someone.  I like having separate interests and different, respected, points of view.  I want to be one of two people on the same team, not one half of a person with two heads.

If I'm worth loving, then just love me.  Not this "as a friend" bullshit.

And it doesn't count if you only love me when you're drunk.