A collection of romantic sentiments, based on experiences I’ve had since elementary school, presented in the style of R.D. Laing’s Knots:

The type of girl I want is not the type of girl who would want me.

You only want me if I don’t want you.
I only want you if you don’t want me.
This premise alone would generate enough material for a tragic three-act shakespearean comedy.

When I am myself I exude self-confidence and speak my mind fluidly. She likes me because I’m acting like myself. Knowing she likes me, I freeze up. I freeze up because the idea that inaction will pause time and stretch this moment to infinity is such a beautiful illusion. Even when I’m not around her, I cannot be myself for as long as she likes me. At length, she loses interest, not seeing any hint of what drew her to me initially. I thaw, becoming myself once more. Being myself, I attract a new girl. The process repeats.

You only like me because I like you.
No, that is so false I can hardly conceive of it.
Prove it.
I cannot prove it with a statement of words.
Then it is true.

I’m anxious because I like you.
As long as I’m anxious, this will never work from my perspective.
The only way this will work from my perspective is if it’s effortless for me.
If it’s effortless for me, you’ll think I don’t like you.
This will never work from both of our perspectives simultaneously.

Let’s be friends.
I want to be lovers.
On average, friendships last longer.
It’s worth the risk, a hot flame burning briefly is better than warm coals.
No, I want you in my life forever.
Friendship with the desire to fuck is not real friendship. It’s the least long-lasting relationship of the three.

Incidentally, Laing’s father was an electrical engineer.