We’re standing in my kitchen,

I keep asking you what you want to drink, and you keep insisting that it doesn’t matter, you’ll drink anything I get you

I try and explain that it matters a little, that I want you to pick something so I know you’ll be happy with it

And you come over to me, and you kiss me. And I forget all about trying to figure out what to get for you.

You pull away, “so, it doesn’t matter.” I have to think about it for a second before I remember what you’re talking about.