"...look, it's not that I never carefully lay out the factors going into a decision. I made spreadsheets before I sent that letter, thinking about potential outcomes and how likely they were and what I'd think of them. Falling in love isn't like that. Falling in love isn't a decision I made, it's an outcome I observed. It's not based on a careful analysis of all your observable traits. The careful analysis of all your observable traits came afterward, and saying I chose you to fall in love with based on this or that exact detail of your personality would be like saying I decided to read the Hobbit because I liked how cleverly Bilbo solved all those riddles. I didn't know about the riddles before I picked up the book! Do you see what I mean? I could tell you all kinds of things I love about you but none of them is the answer to why I love you, or maybe all of them are? I was right to start reading the Hobbit because I expected it to be the kind of book that it is, and then it was. I fell in love with you because on some level I expected you to be the kind of person you are. But it's not that I don't know what my reasons were; it's not that there was some secret part of me carefully analyzing how all the factors of your personality synergize like ice cream toppings. The heart has its reasons that reason does not know."

John deflates a little. "So you didn't set out to fall in love with me. I mean, that makes sense? But... you mentioned liking The Hobbit because of the riddles, I assume you liked other things about the book as well, you could tell me reasons why you like me on that level of detail? I guess you already have." He pauses to think for a moment. "I'm just, you are this cute and clever girl, literally offering yourself to me, and I feel like I didn't do anything to deserve something this good." Or hot, he doesn't say, thinking about the giving part. "I just...." he slumps on the table. "I don't understand how or why this is happening, and it feels like you won't tell me why. Maybe even if you give me a thousand specific details, it'll still feel unearned, but that's what it feels like."

"If you told me more details it might help,  though." 

"You don't have to have done anything to deserve it! You don't have to deserve it. I'm not sure it's possible to deserve. I'm giving it to you anyway, because I want to."

"If I don't deserve it, then why am I getting it?" he asks, his face still on the table. His ice cream is probably still up there melting, but he can't figure out to eat it at the moment. "I just... I suppose you don't think that way, but it feels... bad, to get something like this, without feeling like I've done anything to deserve it. It's scary. It's... I don't know how to put it. I'm sorry, it's just very confusing."

"I think that makes some sense. But—really, seriously, you can't deserve this. There is nothing you can do for which another entire person is an objectively commensurate reward. The universe cannot owe you a cute girl who wants you to own her. The only way you get one of those is if a cute girl looks at you and says 'you know what, I want to belong to this dork'."

"That's very true," John says. The ice cream is melting, but he can't figure out how to pick his head up yet. "I know the universe should never owe me a girl," certainly not one as incredible (oh help he's infatuated) as you "and that it can only come from the girl herself. But like. I feel like there should be more... steps? Like I should have proved myself to you somehow. Like, I didn't do anything to get you. You just happened."

"John, my beloved, my darling, I stalked you for a year."

"...That is true, but I wasn't around for that. I mean. I wasn't... I didn't know that someone was stalking me and falling in love. It doesn't feel like I did anything. I didn't really do anything. I mean, not from my perspective. Does that make any sense?" He's not sure he's making sense. He picks up his head for a moment to get a big bite of ice cream, chews, and flops down once more. 

She softly ruffles his hair. "Yes, that makes perfect sense. You didn't do anything, and yet here I am. Unexplained and out of the blue."

"And you can see how that's a bit... how it's uncomfortable? I don't know what to do about it. If I'm going to follow through with this... I guess you wrote that it's not permanent, but it feels permanent. And I don't know how to do that yet if it feels like I don't deserve it."

"You can take your time figuring it out. There's no rush."

"I suppose that's true. It feels like there is, though. I... want it. But my wants are not as important as doing the right things."

He sighs, picks up his head, and continues to eat of his ice cream. 

"Doing the right things? Which right things?"

"I... don't know. Not taking, um, ownership until I deserve it? Until I've earned it?" She did just say that he can't deserve something like this, and earn would fall in the same boat, but, it's how he feels! 

"What did I just say?" she says, unaware she's echoing his narration. "Love isn't a prize you get for being good enough. I'm not a prize you get for being good enough. If you don't want to claim me until you feel like you're ready for it, of course I'll wait for you. But if I have to wait until you've earned the right to own me, I'll be waiting forever."

"I get what you're saying, but, I don't feel it, you know? I just need to feel like I deserve it, I guess. You're not a prize, you're never a prize, you're a person and people can't be prizes. But I just. I don't know. If someone offered to marry me, or even just, um, have sex with me, out of the blue, I wouldn't want to do it. It wouldn't feel right. This is... the same thing, but so much more?" He's once again unsure if he's making any sense. (At least there is ice cream to console him now. Tasty tasty ice cream.)

She pats his arm. "I understand. You can take your time getting used to me, I'm not going anywhere."

(Her pats are nice.)

"Okay. I'm glad. I just feel like I should be getting used to things faster. But I guess there's no rush?" He breathes, and tries believing it. "I guess there's no rush." That's... a little more relaxed? He doesn't fully feel it, but it helps. (As does the ice cream. He takes another bite.)

"No rush," she agrees, patting his arm again.

He finishes the last bite of his ice cream and sighs. "Okay, what now?" he asks. He doesn't really want the date to end. "I mean, if you don't have anything in mind we could do more math? I brought the book. I mean, if you have anything else..." he trails off, looking at the obvious excitement on her face. 

"Why would I want to do things that are not math? Though I should finish my ice cream first."

She picks up the entire dish and drinks the melty remnants like soup, candy bits and all.

"There." She has ice cream on her nose. "I finished it."

"You have, um, dessert on your nose again," he says, smiling at her antics. (Yup. He's smitten.) "Is this a common occurrence?" (Completely and utterly.)

"It's been known to happen."

"Should I wait until you wipe it up, or should we start doing more math?" He opens his bag to get the math book and notebook out, so they can start regardless of her choice.

She grabs a napkin and wipes her nose. "There. Done. Show me the sparkly ideas."