He calls you hot, I call you beautiful. He makes you pay for dinner, I don't let you. He blows you off for his friends, I blow off my friends for you. He picks on you, I stand up for you. He loves your body, I love your soul. He asks for pictures without clothes, I ask for them without makeup. He never invites you to his house, I want to show you off to my family. He parties hard saturday night, I stay up thinking of cute messages to send for you to wake up to. But most importantly, he is the one who makes you cry, and I'm the one who wipes your tears, holds you tight, and whispers: "It's going to be okay... I'm here"