Accompanying Tweets to The Lover's Dictionary by David Levithan: A

Saturday, November 3, 2012

So David Levithan has been tweeting under-140-characters dictionary entries as a supplement or as a tease for the book. I say he's supercalifreakinawesome to be able to think of tweets still in the boyfriend's perspective. David Levithan is just the man, yo. And since I love the book so much, I actually copy-pasted every single tweet and decided to post it. And it's my birthday so happy birthday to me! So here goes! Enjoy!

abide, v.: It’s not a question of whether our insecurities, our desires can live together. It’s a question of whether they can make a home.

absurd, adj.: You pass out on the couch, a near-infant in an adult’s body, snoring. And what do I do? I love you.

abundance, n.: If I kept index cards of all your excuses, would that say something to you, or would you just make another excuse?

abyss, n.: There are moments when I feel trapped inside my mind, and there’s no way out, and it’s only going to get worse.

acclimate, v.: We know the lobster’s reaction when things are getting gradually worse, but what about when they’re getting better?

accomplishment, n.: That first anniversary, I wrote you a long letter, and all you needed was to see the envelope to become teary-eyed.


accumulate, v.: 4 cards, 14 photos, 1 pipe-cleaner heart, 12 ticket stubs, 12 paperclips in a chain, 6 mixes, 1 gnome, 1 drawer, 2 1/2 years

accusation, n.: I’m not saying you don’t love me, just that you don’t love me enough.

acne, n.: The scars come from everyone else seeing it, don’t they?

acolyte, n.: I let you dazzle the 19-year-old, until you were winning too much. Then I went to the bar, said class was over for the day.

adamantine, adj.: The sharper and harder you become, the more I am in awe, and the more I am afraid that I am too soft to stand it.

adaptation, n.: We’re acting out the same old story, and it doesn’t matter which one of us is Romeo or Juliet, because it ends the same.

affable, adj.: After four drinks, you become like a puppy. Just as cute, just as friendly, just as adored, just as intelligent.

affectation, n.: When I told you not to call a ski mask a balaclava, you said my use of the word affectation was an affectation.

aghast, adj.: Some nights when we watch the news, the only thing that gets me through is the fact that you are just as horrified as I am.

agile, adj.: I wanted to spoon, but instead we sporked.

aglow, adj.: You watch the fireworks, and I watch the world lit up around them.

aimless, adj.: Every time I ask you what you want to do, there is, underneath, the greater question of what you want to do with your life.

ajar, adj.: It isn’t until I see the door ajar, the undercurrent of light from the kitchen, that I can turn away and go back to sleep.

alabastard, adj./n.: When you lie to me, you get a little paler. Maybe you’re just overcompensating when you try not to blush.

alacrity, n.: I bought you a watch. It ended up in a drawer.

alluvion, n.: Is love the water or the shore?

amatory, adj.: You rest your palm on my back, and I feel it there for a second after it leaves, like the hum after the orchestra finishes.

ambiguity, n.: When you say, “I couldn’t love you more,” does that mean that the love’s hit infinity, or just that it’s reached its limit?

amortize, v.: How many arguments does it take, how many infidelities (one?) before the principle you’ve invested is suddenly worth losing?

ampere, v.: The proper measure of fantastic sex.

anachronism, n.: I want you to duel for my honor.

anchor, v.: I drift, I drift, I drift, you stay.

anecdotal, adj.: Sometimes I think of us as a paper-clip chain, useless except as a record of its own steadfast creation.

angst, n.: It’s the freedom to choose that does us in, that enables us to question every choice, even when most of them are good ones.

annotation, n.: If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t say any of these things. If I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t try to figure it out.

announcement, n.: Your quiche is on fire, as I expected. You said the wine was an ingredient, but I knew better.

anodyne, adj.: At times your love seems crystalline at its core; there’s no softness in it, but there’s the comfort of indestructibility.

anoint, v.: In the shower, seventh date, you used the shampoo to draw a heart on my forehead, then swept it back into my hair.

anonymous, adj.: There may have been times before we met when we passed each other on the street or in a museum, unaware. That astounds me.

answer, n.: Maybe is always safest, but it’s never satisfying.

antagonistic, adj.: Do you think the dishes you leave in the sink miraculously clean themselves?

anthropomorphize, v.: There are moments when the rocks seem to know I love you, and others when the grass can’t believe I hold on.

antithesis, n.: I’m not sure the opposite of love is hate. I think it might be emptiness.

aperitif, n.: You say it unwinds you but I say it unwinds everything else.

aperture, n.: The things closest to our eyes are the hardest to keep in focus.

aplomb, n.: As I watch from the wall, you own not only the dancefloor but the song, as if Lady Gaga wrote it anticipating your every move.

apostasy, n: Your hand, my thigh, your nephew’s confirmation service.

apparel, n.: There are times I don’t mind doing the laundry, because folding your clothes reminds me of the shape of you.

appease, v: We stay at your mother’s house long enough to remember why we can’t stay there.

appendix, n.: In the body, it’s in the middle; in the story, it’s at the end. I say, let’s live now, and let the charts come after.

appraise, v.: I sensed your friends thinking I was too quiet, so I tried to fix it with an off-color knock-knock joke. Backfire.

arachnid, n.: You were scared and I didn’t want to kill it, so the only thing to do was open the window and wait for it to leave.

areole, n.: The space between the veins of a leaf, or the fragile distance between my hopes and my fears.

argosy, n.: You come home from the store laden with bags, promising a surprise for me at the bottom of each.

argue, v.: You don’t want to admit we fight, so you say we argue, and then we argue about whether there’s any difference.

arithmetic, n.: There are days I defy the logic of 1 + 1 = 2, because who knows if it’s really that easy to add them together?

armistice, n.: Sober and hungover, you empty the bottles into the sink, and I don’t hear the never, only the again.

arrest, v.: You tell me the truth, and not only does my heart stop for a second, it feels like it’s been put in prison.

arrhythmia, n.: The heartbeat comes back, but it’s not the same. I find there are gaps and stops, but I’m still alive.

arson, n.: Sometimes you burn down the house to destroy it, other times to give yourself a chance to rebuild.

artsy, n.: We don’t talk, but then we’ll watch a movie where the people tell each other everything. Only, it’s in a different language.

arugula, n.: You call it lettuce, I call it arugula, and that is the difference in our childhoods, right there.

ascertain, v.: If you want to know the truth, ask me for the truth. That’s a word I won’t play around with.

ascetic, adj.: I don’t want you to leave me, but a lot of the time I want you to leave me alone.

aside, n.: I like the way you set the never set the alarm for a nice, rounded number. I am always waking up at 7:04 or 7:19.

askew, adj.: Is ask the root of this word? Does every question alter the way that things are going to be?

aspersion, n.: It’s not that you slept with someone else, it’s that you must have turned off your love for me in order to do so.

aspirational, adj.: I want to be the type of person who can find another person and be happy just with that.

aspirin, n.: Mute your Playstation.

assertion, n.: My love is the context that allows me to hate you for a moment without the damage being irreparable.

assess, v.: Someone should sell relationship insurance, so when there’s damage, there’s an outside party to evaluate the claims.

assignation, n.: This is a word used by betrayers to dress up what they do, which is betray.

association, n.: I am going to say a word, and I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind. The word is us.

assortment, n.: In a sock drawer, it’s always the mismatched and orphaned ones that get the most attention.

assuage, v.: If even the torments are tender, then maybe we are not fragile so much as we are open.

astute, adj.: The present’s not ours to see, que sera sera

attempt, n,: I am trying, but you are not, and by the time you start trying, I may stop.

attention, n.: It should never feel like payment; when it does, that’s a sign it should wander away.

attest, v.: When we’re with my mother, I want you to see how good I’ve had it; when we’re with yours, I am supposed to witness her faults.

attraction,n.: The intensity rises not from the heart or the groin or the head, but from some uncontrollable, unknown spot in between.

attrition, n.: What a stupid war to fight, to see who loves most and can show it the least.

awaken, v: Why am I always the one who hears the alarm?

award, n.: I asked why you kept the debate club trophy; you said it represented your peak. Your half-seriousness made me more-than-half sad.

aware, adj.: I walk on the knife’s edge of knowing you are lying but not knowing what the lie is. I can’t stay here for long.

away, adj.: Sometimes when you’re gone, I stay at home and still feel like I’m the one who’s missing.

awkward, adj.: It is inevitable that when you answer my phone and say, “Blowjob service!”, it will be either my boss or my mother calling.

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