Here Is How I Know That I’m In Love With You

It’s incredible what one can realize after seeing two of his friends get married, having a heart-to-heart with the best man at 3:30 a.m. after just meeting him for the first time that day, and, believe it or not, Zombieland.

Some will think that the ambiance of a recent wedding clouds my judgment, while I think it provided nothing but clarity.

I have to be in love with you. I feel it, and I know it to be true deep down. The only reason I can’t come out and say it is because I keep trying to find reasons why I’m not. Each attempt ends in failure.

I tell myself that I can’t be in love with you because we’ve only known each other for a short time, but the reality is that people have met and married in the same time frame and stayed together.

I tell myself that I can’t be in love with you because we’re not together, but the reality is that the heart knows no different. It’s drawn to you uncontrollably, hooked on you unwaveringly, and filled to capacity with warmth at the thought of you.

I know that I love you because the times we’ve been together have been among the happiest of my life. I say that women should gauge a man’s interest by how much he smiles with them, not how much he spends on them; and by that measure, I’ve spoiled you rotten every time I’ve seen you.

Not in a, “I’ll sit around idly until you come to your senses” kind of way, but in a way that says, “If you need time, I can give you all you need.”

I’d wait because you’re worth waiting for. I’d wait because whatever the hiatus is you need — be it one week, two weeks, one month, or six months — would be a small tradeoff in exchange for getting to feel the way I do now everyday going forward, without shame.

I can tell everyone I know — and you know — how I feel with pride, and I can show you how I feel with no restraints.

I know that I love you because I see it in the little things like hearing a song from one of your favorite artists, seeing your drink of choice ordered at the bar, or subconsciously rooting for the Cowboys because I know that a Dallas win will brighten your day as a diehard fan.

The best man told me the other night, “It’s easy to fall in love. It’s hard to stay in love,” and I couldn’t agree more with him. Falling for you was easy. I mean, look at you; who wouldn’t fall for you?

I’m sure you’re wondering how the hell Zombieland could’ve helped me come to the realization that I’m in love with you. There’s a scene where Jesse Eisenberg says, “Wherever this girl was, that’s where I wanted to be,” and all I thought of was you.

I can’t imagine being anywhere with you and not enjoying myself. We could go out in public, and I’d be the envy of every guy in the building; or we can stay in and catch a movie together, and I’d be lucky one who gets to have you lie against him.

I know that I love you because I’ve boarded three flights since the day I’ve met you — including the one I’m currently writing this on, ironically to Dallas — and the last text I’ve sent before each takeoff has been to one of my best friends telling her to get in touch with you and tell you all of this, God forbid something should happen on the flight.

In the end, that’s all the evidence I need. Because if something were to happen 26,000 feet midair, the last form of contact I had with a loved one would be with you in mind. If that’s not love, I don’t know what the hell is.