I hate subtext probably more
than I hate anything else in this world. It’s not romantic. It’s bullshit. Like, the single most romantic thing you could say to me is probably also the most straightforward thing you’re thinking — “I want my penis to be in or around you all the time,” or “I just wanna sit in bed and eat Hint of Lime Tostitos while we watch Roseanne,” is so, so, so much better than, “Hey gurl. You’re funny/cute/whatever.” I can work with Tostitos and your penis. I can’t do shit with a compliment.
Plus, reading into vague things is for when you’re speculating the particulars of James Van Der Beek’s V-Card (no one’s touched it, it’s impossible). It has no place in my interpersonal relationships.
That said, when I look back on the greatest hits, one of the things I enjoy most is my refusal to make people’s lives easy for them when they want to have an implied conversation instead of an actual one.
Person who is “into me”: Hey, that thing you did was nice.
Me: I know. That’s why I did it.
Person: Oh.Maybe I’ll die alone, but I’ll die alone saying everything I thought needed to be said and givin all tha shy boiz a run 4 their money when they use words like “nice.”
Right? I’m sure I don’t make anything easy for anyone, but I have no patience for romantic subtlety either.
If this is what people thing about romantic subtlety, they’re missing the point of romantic subtlety. What it should be about is not vague, thinly veiled compliments but rather the communication of the ineffable, what exists in the other person that, for no lack of effort, is almost impossible to communicate. So, you speak as the poet, the mystic, or in riddles and rhymes hoping whatever love you might be experiencing (i.e. eros, storge, agape) might somehow be revealed. Sometimes that’s communicated in simple actions, or words, but there are other times that whatever it is, can only be communicated subtly, masked and adorned in a romantic compliment.
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