Find the one who is a little clingy in the clean way. The kind who is excited you exist. The kind who keeps showing up with both hands. Life is too short for love that clocks in and checks boxes. Morning at 7:12 they text first because they woke up thinking your name. Not a speech. A photo of the sky from the bus. A crooked bagel. A stupid joke you laugh at in the kitchen with one sock on. They do not make you hunt for proof. They hand it over. Here. I like you. Still. Healthy clingy is not possession. It is presence. It is the coat over your shoulders at 19:03 when the wind cuts. It is a charger that appears before your phone dies. It is knowing your coffee order and still asking just to hear you say it. It is a calendar invite titled Your win today with a heart that looks embarrassed. It is eagerness that does not corner you. It is touch that asks and waits. It is I miss you said softly, then space enough to breathe. Unhealthy clingy drips like syrup and sticks where you do not want it. Healthy clingy is a warm towel. On. Off. Your choice. It knows doors. It loves your no and does not punish your pauses. It hears your boundaries and treats them like furniture, not obstacles. It wants to be near because near feels good, not because far feels like death. You will know them by their small greed for your joy. You say I got the interview and they go louder than you. They make dinner at 21:18 and burn the rice because they keep stopping to kiss you. They clap for the ugly draft because it means you are in the ring. They save the screenshot where you looked scared and brave and put it in a folder called Keep. They brag about you to a stranger at the pharmacy who only asked where the bandages are. You will know them by the way they handle your bad weather. You shut down. You go gray around the edges. They do not knock with a megaphone. They place a glass of water within reach and sit on the floor anyway. They say you can talk or I can sit here and breathe with you. They love the version of you that is beautiful and the version that is a pile of laundry on the chair. They do not flinch. They change the light bulb. They lock the door from the inside. They stay. Bored love performs chores. It sighs about rides from the airport and reminds you of miles and favors. Excited love brings a paper sign with your name in terrible handwriting and turns the car heater to your number without asking. Bored love schedules you like a dentist. Excited love stacks Tuesdays with small golden coins and calls them ours. Bored love tolerates. Excited love participates. Pick the one who texts leaving now and then actually leaves now. Pick the one who remembers the allergy and the last song you cried to. Pick the one whose face changes when you walk into a room, not because they need you to fix them, but because they are happy to see you. Pick the one who kisses your forehead like it is a receipt that proves they were here and paid attention. This kind of cling does not shrink you. It makes more room. It lets you run your laps and still wants you sweaty. It turns the bed into a harbor instead of a stage. It asks how can I carry a corner of your day. It does not keep score. It keeps time. The rhythm speeds up when you laugh and slows when you are careful. It never uses love as a leash. Life is short. Short like a bus pulling away when you are at the curb. Short like your grandmother’s laugh on a video you watch twice a year. Short like the stretch between 18:09 and 18:13 that held the entire argument and the entire repair. Do not waste it with someone who treats affection like a duty. Pick the person who acts like they found a good song and are always scooting over to put a headphone in your ear. Let them be a little clingy in the holy way. Let them hold your wrist gently in the crosswalk. Let them wave from the window ridiculous and proud. Let them stand too close in the grocery aisle while you pick apples like small planets.