Monday, I am in love.

I am in love with how we belong to drastically different worlds, yet we seem to fit so comfortably in every way. I am black and he is white (literally though, I am tan and he is fair) but our differences blend into a perfect shade of my favourite heather grey.

I am in love with how his eyes light up each time he tells me about his best mates in army and how each of them have helped him grow in a way or another. He loves them all so dearly (in the most platonic manner). He has so much love in him. I could listen to him tell me his army stories for three hours straight without blinking (I teared so much after that from keeping my eyes open for too long).

I am in love with his silly obsession with working out. The first time we hung out, he dropped down out of the blue and started doing push-ups while we were watching Teen Wolf after we had curry chicken for supper because he "might as well make use of the protein (chicken)".

I am in love with that smug face he can’t ever seem to suppress when he thinks he looks good in a certain outfit. He has a thing for tacky clothes and funky colours which honestly isn’t my thing but. that. adorable. smug. face. I think I could live with that.

I am in love with the way he acknowledges my good outfit days and how he is never shy to praise me when I put in effort to doll up. I am an idiot at receiving compliments. He secretly enjoys watching me blush to death.

I am in love with the fact that he specifically buys ingredients to attempt whipping up my favourite dishes just because I had a mild craving for it. I know how much he hates cooking after a dreary day at school, but still, he does it just for me.

I am in love with how brutally straightforward he is, telling me "I bought you sweets but don't eat too many", "you should start working out, it's good for your body" and "I don't think a long coat suits your height". As much as such comments prick me when it comes from others, I am in love with his and only his frankness.

I am in love with the way he remembers that I'm a girl. People tend to forget my gender sometimes, so much so that I forget it myself. He pushes all the bling bling’s and dresses into my basket when we go shopping, and makes sure I try them on just because I am a girl, and I "deserve to dress up sometimes”.

I am in love with his insistence – his insistence to make me muster up the courage to say the things I far too often bottle up and do the things I want to do that I far too often escape from in the name of fear. He brings out the brave in me. He makes me grow.

I am in love with the extent of details he pays attention to about the things I say. Awhile back, I casually mentioned that my mom's birthday was on 11 November. On 10 November at 4pm (SG 12am), he sent me a text reminding me to wish my mom. I couldn't stop thinking about it the entire evening.

I am in love with the way he says "I want to take you out" instead of "let's hang out".

I am in love with his naggy self when he makes me promise him I would drink water because I have a bad habit to dehydrate myself to death like that.

I am in love with how he possesses every virtue that my dad has and I really look up to that. He is honest (very), he is humble (well ok, sort of) and he is forward-looking – he is everything I've ever been so proud of my dad for. (He's just as nerdy as well) I am convinced that if he is like daddy, then I will grow up to be just as happy as mommy.

I am in love with a man I’ve never dared to love, but am starting to so quickly and dangerously.

And as much as I am scared to death to let the world know this,
as much as I am clueless as to where this will go,
I just want to say that

I am in love.