It's alarming. He's told me that he loves me. I never expected that. I never expected that a man would say that to me.
When and where I come from men aren't necessary, there aren't any. Well, maybe just a few that I haven't seen. Men have not been necessary to make babies for generations. And since men are such a nuisance, we stopped making new ones.
I've had relationships with women, but none have told me that they loved me. I had negative impressions about men from the media, but Jimmie is not like that in any way. He's not aggressive, no way macho, a bit stupid, but quite likeable really.
So the big question is:
Does he love me? And if so, do I love him?
Probably, I probably love him, but I don't know for sure. I tried every test I could find in the net, including picking petals from a daisy:
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not...
No answer, so I asked Trace the computer. “Good question Amy, but applying the standard Schodschlip criteria doesn't help. Asking how you feel in your heart doesn't help either – you haven't got a heart.”
That's true, I'm heartless and lungless, but I am human. Recite Shylock's lines. If you prick us, do we not bleed?
What to do? I'm not going to ask him to climb a dangerous mountain to bring me back some edelweiss and prove his love for me. I ain't going to climb a mountain either.
After thinking hard for several weeks and spending much time with Jimmie, I made a decision. I put my arms around Jimmie and told him “I've just got to believe it, I love you.” He put his arms slowly around me “I still love you.”