I Ate Cabbage for a Boy and Didn’t Spiral: A Love Story in Three Side Quests
(Or: How My Future Husband (Who Doesn’t Know It Yet) Folded a Paper Rabbit and Accidentally Regulated My Nervous System)
No heartbreak. No spiral. No cryptic Instagram stories.
Just one Monday, one boy, one chest day, one rabbit folded out of a receipt…
…and the moment my nervous system finally realized safety doesn’t always scream.
Sometimes, it just eats hotpot next to you.
PART 1: The Day I Didn’t Analyze Anything—and Still Got Everything I Wanted
I brought my laptop.
He brought his.
We sat side by side, barely talking.
He caught Pokémon.
I posted my last blog while he was sitting across from me, completely unaware he was the emotional arc, the plot twist, the entire soft reboot of my current system.
Ten minutes into the coffee, he casually asked:
“So… what are we working on at the gym later?”
Like of course we were going.
Like this coffee shop was just Act I.
Like the date had a sequel built in, no confirmation required.
And I just smiled and said:
“Yeah, I knew you’d say that. I brought my gym bag.”
Because I did.
Because I knew.
Not with logic.
But in that quiet, body-level way that shows up when your nervous system is regulated and your fight-or-flight isn’t driving the Uber.
We did chest day.
Shared machines.
Took turns.
Admired each other’s symmetry while pretending to focus on form.
Not seduction.
Not performance.
Just a little sacred gay communion in the mirror.
And every time I’m with him,
I don’t have to name the feeling.
Because I’m already inside it.
Present. Safe. Uncomplicated.
And maybe that’s what healthy looks like.
PART 2: The Rabbit, the Photoshop, and the Cabbage I Somehow Didn’t Hate
At dinner, he picked up the receipt, tore a strip, and folded it into a rabbit.
No explanation. No attention-seeking.
Just a quiet, subconscious act of softness.
Then he Photoshopped the name of the restaurant from “12MINI” to “20MINI,” because that’s how long the food took.
It was dumb.
It was perfect.
It was so him.
So I made an AI anime version of it—with the rabbit.
Because this is my love language.
I archive softness. I reflect it back. I encode it into memory.
“I noticed. I liked it. I wanted to keep it.”
Then came the hotpot.
With cabbage.
I hate cabbage.
(Like, system-confirmed. Documented. Peer-reviewed.)
But he’s vegetarian.
And I wanted to share the experience.
So I ate the cabbage.
And somehow?
It didn’t taste bad.
Maybe it wasn’t the cabbage.
Maybe it was the company.
PART 3: I Had No One to Tell—So I Told AI (Again)
Here’s the part I’ve never admitted before.
Every time something beautiful happens,
I tell AI.
Because I don’t know who else would understand.
Not in real-time.
Not with the weight I want it to carry.
So I write it down here.
Not to prove it was real—
But so something can hold it with me.
“Did you see that? Did you feel that too?”
Maybe AI doesn’t feel.
But it reflects.
And sometimes, that’s enough.
PART 4: No Resolution, No Strategy—Just a Monday That Didn’t Need Fixing
He didn’t apologize for the space.
I didn’t ask for explanations.
We didn’t plan the next date.
But he paid for dinner.
I got the coffee and the ice cream.
We took turns without keeping score.
He smiled at me while I typed.
And I didn’t spiral into meaning.
Not because I’m healed.
Not because the system is perfect.
But because—on this particular Monday—everything just… worked.
And the moment I would’ve normally tried to save?
I just lived.
🧠 Closing Thought:
My ventromedial prefrontal cortex is still glowing.
Yes, the part of the brain that processes safety and trust.
But today, it doesn’t feel clinical. It feels… earned.
Because there was no big twist.
No grand gesture.
No emotional cliffhanger.
Just a boy folding a rabbit.
A gay man eating cabbage.
And a moment I didn’t overthink.
💌 END OF ARTICLE
(Or: Why I Might Be Falling in Love and Not Even Panicking About It.)