Last night B and I were reminiscing about the first time we watched a movie together, which happened to be on the couch of the (somewhat) disgusting townhouse he shared with our mutual friend M when we knew each other a bit but weren't dating. He goes "I reached over and touched your leg and I thought to myself, you might be 'mine'". And I melted. Because while in a different context calling someone "mine" might be threatening, we do it all the time, as in, you are for me, my person, my love, you are just "mine". Mine, mine, mine. Sometimes I sound like the birds from Finding Nemo. But less squawkey.
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