Define for Me: Aromantic

by Quinn Dankesreiter

Tell me what it means to love because either the autism or the trauma does not allow me to feel the definition.

Break down for me all the little bits that you crave about one another.

Detail all aspects of your mutual crushes and the way you kissed for the first time.

Paint it as romantic.

Clarify that it was definitely not awkward when you bumped teeth.

Remind the captive audience that you were a bit drunk, but not in a creepy way. Search for the feeling again and emphasize that it was in a sweet, carefree way. Get graphic about the way they get blackheads in their ears from wearing air pods too often, and how it bothers you that they never clean them properly.

Reveal to me all the dirty secrets they hide from the world.

Swear me to confidence.

Fill me in about the way you cuddle when it gets cold. Reminisce about those nights only your fingertips mingled on a king-sized bed when the A/C broke in mid-July.

Scrunch your nose as you remember how the sweat pools down their back in missionary. Inform me that it makes it hard to grab their ass. Explain how a poorly planted booty-slap made you both erupt into giggles.

Promise me that when I find somebody, we will be able to laugh naked, like you do.

Smile when you say it.

Scan my face for a reaction and try to apologize when you spot the condensation. Hover your hand above my back, unsure if you should touch me or not. Help me realize that I want a lover who wouldn’t hesitate. Forewarn me through your empty praise that people that are worthy of me are hard to come by nowadays.

Make me question if I have ever felt love.

Let your words bring me back to the lonely, longing nights and tear-stained pillows of exes who only touched me when they wanted me.

Allow me to beg you to elaborate on what it means to love. Provide me a basic definition, but no satisfaction. Fail to comfort me.

Hold me as I search myself for understanding, knowing that for me, the definition of love – concealed under the fissures and folds of my brain – is OED I.1.b.:

love (luv), n. An abstract quality or principle.

Mourn with me that I may never know another.

BIO: Quinn Dankesreiter was raised in Derry, Pennsylvania and teaches English as a Foreign Language in Cologne, Germany. They are a Fulbright recipient and have been published in Ramifications literary magazine. Their interests lie in personal essays, short stories, and Germany literary writing.