Who hasn’t done this at least once? I mean, come on. That’s what we romance writers write about. The act of falling in love and hoping that this other person will love the mess that a person is for who they are.
In 2005 or something, Meredith Grey stood in an operating room at the fictional Seattle Grace Hospital and poured her heart out to the flowy-haired wonder, Dr. McDreamy.
Objectively, this fool did not deserve the notorious MG’s “Pick Me, Choose Me, Love Me” spiel, considering his behavior resembled that of a 16-year-old JV football captain who couldn’t decide if he wanted to bring Sarah or Sandy to the prom. At the time McDreamy was being a McDickhead who had not one, but two stunningly intelligent and beautiful women pining over him…one of whom he had kinda-sorta- been married to. Adulthood is a bitch, y’all.
My point: Meredith did it. The strong, closed-off, tequila lovin’ young woman fearlessly put it all out there. She told the person she loved that she loved him. It was not at all easy or painless, but whatever she had been feeling…
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