Few Antipathies: If I Loved You This Summer

I’m not in love. But if I were?

It wouldn’t be the type with edge or urgency. No games, no schedule, no emotional calisthenics. Just a long exhale kind of love. One where nobody’s trying too hard, and everything lands just right.

If I loved you this summer. I’d show up with coffee and no real plans. I’d send a song, not a paragraph. I’d lean in when you speak and lean back when you need air. No ownership. Just orbit. No proving. Just presence. We’d lay low and laugh high. Sit close but not cling. Love like shade on a hot day... there if you want it, cool either way. I wouldn’t need to post about it. You wouldn’t need to ask what it is. We’d know. And knowing would be enough.

What I’m Saying Yes To:

Lingering eye contact. Hands that don’t ask for more than they give. Connection without commentary.

What I’m Unlearning:

That love has to ache to be real. That romance needs a plot. That I have to shrink, chase, or convince.

What’s Saving My Summer:

Letting people love me in their language and loving myself in mine. Staying open, not available. Soft, not searchable. 

One Frame, One Feeling:

Two drinks sweating on the table. Music playing low. Feet up. Smiles lazy. A whole conversation happening without one word.

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If I loved you this summer, you’d never have to guess. I’d be there, relaxed and real not because I had to be. Because I wanted to be,

O.B. TramueL