the receipts.

sep 7 · 7:01 pm · instagram

— turns out you were 20 minutes away. the whole time. for months.

sep 7 · 7:02 pm · instagram

— me inviting you to a hip revision like it's a weekend getaway. you said you'd come. i believed you.

sep 7 · 7:07 pm · instagram

— you were worried about me. i flipped it. one of us had to be the mom and i called it first.

sep 8 · 10:25 am · instagram

(edited — like imessage shows. i went back in. you caught it.)

— the first version just said "if i was with you." i went back in and added "always" before you could reply. you caught the edit. we never talked about it. telling you now: the always was the point.

sep 8 · 11:29 pm · instagram

(edited — like imessage shows. i went back in. you caught it.)

— your quit-smoking program has a population of one and it's me. the number still works.

sep 8 · 11:30 pm · instagram

— the first "i love you" i ever sent you. look at me hiding it behind a "but." i was testing the water with my whole foot.

sep 8 · 11:31 pm · instagram

— five texts in ninety seconds. my fastest fingers of the year.

sep 8 · 11:40 pm · instagram

— my whole personality, in two texts. everyone else was noise. you were signal.

sep 9 · 12:09 am · instagram

— silver spring, 2020. summit hills, off east-west highway. i remembered the entrance. you remembered it was "complicated." same place.

sep 9 · 1:27 am · instagram

— i sent you selfies at 1am like it was nothing. it was not nothing. i planned those.

sep 9 · 1:31 am · instagram

— "that's beside the point" — i said that on purpose. the point was always just you, beside me.

sep 9 · 10:45 pm · instagram

— the river. our first almost-date of the new era.

sep 9 · 11:29 pm · instagram

— you were planning around my crutches. i was planning around you. we've been doing that dance ever since.

sep 10 · 5:25 pm · imessage

— you were 4 minutes out. two words. you hit "loved" before you even parked. i meant both words.

sep 10 · 9:41 pm · imessage

— our first official plan. you squat, i soak. the surgery is wednesday — the membership starts after. that's a promise with a date on it.

sep 11 · 10:55 pm · imessage

— you gave me 1 Park Pl, annapolis. at 11pm. like it was nothing.

sep 11 · 11:06 pm · imessage

— not "do you want food." "what ALL u want." the register guy watched me read a grocery list out loud like a wedding vow.

sep 11 · 11:21 pm · imessage

— the three questions. ham n cheese, extra mayo, lettuce tomato onion. caesar. watermelon celsius. i still know the order.

sep 11 · 11:29 pm · imessage

— "or" — trailing off like the options were endless. they were: toasted, or not. customer service voice, but for you only.

sep 12 · 12:07 am · imessage

— "food at the door." three words, no emojis, full stop. the most romantic thing i've ever typed. you said "this is love." you were right.

sep 12 · 8:20 pm · imessage

— you were stuck at work blaming paperwork. i had a curfew and a bedtime and i still meant it.

sep 12 · 10:22 pm · imessage

— you said you missed me already. i one-upped you with a full scream. the bestie can confirm. she's a witness in this case.

sep 12 · 10:56 pm · imessage

— THE ask. 10:56pm on a work night. you were scared. i answered in record time.

sep 12 · 10:59 pm · imessage

— "scared to ask." papi. i'd been rehearsing the answer since 2020.

sep 12 · 11:06 pm · imessage

— the line you quote back at me when i overthink. it works both ways. that's how you know it's true.

sep 13 · 9:23 am · imessage

— the 🌙 because we'd been up past midnight planning. the "watch me" because i wanted you to see it happen.

sep 13 · 9:25 am · imessage

— you sent 2603 Carroll St at 11:10. by 12:07 it was on a form. the first place my paperwork ever loved somebody.

sep 13 · 9:26 am · imessage

— morning. then again at noon: "the word's especially yours." twice before lunch. you hit the heart on both.

sep 13 · 1:36 pm · imessage

— you apologize for slow replies like you're not literally guarding a building. take your time, security guard boyfriend.

sep 13 · 5:43 pm · imessage

— three texts on purpose. i wanted the "you" to arrive alone. it did. you loved it immediately.

sep 13 · 5:47 pm · imessage

— you'd just told me your leg still hurt. i didn't have a fix. i had this.

sep 13 · 5:57 pm · imessage

— genuinely my policy. be clingy. i'll match it.

sep 13 · 6:11 pm · imessage

— this is the one you quote. it's going on the wall of the apartment one day. you've been warned.

sep 13 · 6:22 pm · imessage

— eight words. my whole heart.

sep 13 · 6:27 pm · imessage

— in writing. that's what this whole page is. case law, papi.

sep 13 · 6:30 pm · imessage

— "before i was allowed to." you know exactly what that means. 2020 knew. i just couldn't say it yet.

sep 13 · 6:31 pm · imessage

— the thesis. of us. of this page. of everything.

sep 13 · 6:43 pm · imessage

— you told me you can't always tell when someone's choosing you. so now it's out loud. daily. forever. "until it's boring" — which is never.

sep 13 · 6:44 pm · imessage

— every single one since 2020. go back and reread. i'll wait.

sep 14 · 5:21 pm · imessage

— you apologized like you owed me a name. papi. you gave me one. that's different.

sep 14 · 5:43 pm · imessage

— "isaac for when it's just us." i still do this. check your contacts.

sep 14 · 6:05 pm · imessage

— four texts, one minute. gravity doesn't apologize and neither do i.

sep 14 · 6:45 pm · imessage

— everyone else gets michael. you get the name from our moment. there's exactly one of you. the position is filled.

sep 14 · 7:02 pm · imessage

— no prenup between us and the alphabet. you already claimed it out loud. i'm holding the receipt. (more on that at the very bottom of this page.)

sep 14 · 8:01 pm · imessage

— you wrote paragraphs about building a life. i agreed — and ordered you to eat. both are love languages. one of them comes with a plate.

sep 14 · 9:46 pm · imessage

— and you said "not me being in love with a robot." the arrangement stands: robot types, i love, you benefit.

sep 14 · 9:46 pm · imessage

— the realest sentence in the whole archive. i'm not annotating this one. it annotates me.

sep 15 · 12:23 am · imessage

— filed under: things i say at 12:24am that hold up in daylight.

sep 15 · 12:28 am · imessage

— "only love." like it's a small thing. it's the biggest thing. the lmao is camouflage.

sep 15 · 12:30 am · imessage

— the dots are in the original. i counted them once. eleven. that's how long i thought about how to say it nicely.

sep 15 · 12:44 am · imessage

— fyi. for your information. the information being: you. that's it. that's the info.

sep 16 · 1:12 pm · imessage

— all caps. lowercase is my brand, but some news doesn't fit in lowercase.

sep 16 · 1:29 pm · imessage

— "like in person" — as opposed to all the loving i'd been doing long distance. both counted.

sep 16 · 1:39 pm · imessage

— the entire point. of moving in. of us. of all of it. you asked permission for something i'd already promised you.

sep 16 · 6:04 am · imessage

— sent at dawn after our first 8-hour call. you fell asleep around 1. i accidentally hung up at 7. the record still stands.

sep 17 · 6:59 am · imessage

— no spaces. no time for spaces. also it's 7am and you were late to work because of me. worth it.

sep 20 · 5:25 pm · imessage

— you'd just shared your location with me "in case anything happens." that's the sentence that came out of me. the most true thing in my phone.

sep 21 · 7:05 pm · imessage

— we have a bit. you're the 🐾. i'm the arf. don't explain it to anyone. it's ours.

sep 24 · 9:45 am · imessage

— sent casually on a thursday like it wasn't the whole plot.

sep 24 · 10:58 pm · imessage

— you were at work. i was in our bed. the ".." is me being sleepy and greedy about it.

sep 26 · 7:46 pm · instagram

— my spanish, for you, in your language, badly, on purpose. translation: "i love you a world. nothing compares to this beautiful thing we're living right now." the robot translated. the world part was mine.

sep 27 · 5:45 pm · imessage

— dalmon. D-A-L-M-O-N. you hit loved on the typo AND on the correction, four seconds apart. i keep the receipts on the receipts.

sep 29 · 4:03 pm · imessage

— you listed eight things i did like i'd done something rare. that's tuesday behavior, papi. every tuesday. all of them.

sep 30 · 1:28 pm · imessage

— i typed "thanks god for you," stared at it, and fixed it. the correction took 9 minutes. the meaning took 33 years.

oct 1 · 12:51 pm · imessage

— you pasted this one back at me with thirteen hearts. thirteen. i counted. you already archive me better than i archive you.

oct 1 · 1:36 pm · imessage

— "BABE!" in caps because lowercase couldn't carry it. wednesday. 8am. you're my ride. that's the next receipt — and you'll be there when i wake up.

oct 1 · 3:15 pm · imessage

— scheduled a hip surgery at 1:36. proposed a hiking date at 3:15. the surgeon rebuilds the hip; the trail gets the credit. every green thing. that's still the plan.