Would You Love Me If I Was a Worm? 🪱

Diary of a Ridiculous Romantic

I met the sweetest soul. I would never insult God and call it an accident because this… this was divine alignment. A complete opposite of everything I’ve experienced in life and in love. So, so patient, kind, affirming, genuine, decisive — and she does NOT play about me! So intentional and knows exactly what and who she wants. I realized I was living a dream.

But I’m no fool for fairy tales. I know "too good to be true" does exist. So, I asked the ultimate question — the one I knew would be a dealbreaker, the ultimate personality reveal:

“Would you love me if I was a worm?”

The shock on her face? Immediate. Eyebrow raise of pure confusion.
“Well… no, because then you wouldn’t be you. You’d be a worm.”

My heart sank. I knew it! Too good to be true!

After endless conversations trying to explain that I’d still be me — just a tiny, mini worm! I even bargained with her: “What about if I was a life-size worm?” (Which, of course, terrified her even more.)

I pleaded. I promised her a mini work uniform, her little glasses still on, lounging on the finest of plant leaves, living her best worm life. But no. No amount of hypotheticals would make her say she’d love me as a worm. A literal party pooper!

And then it hit me. Oh my God…I am a pessimist! I look for anything and everything to count against potential lovers. As my mom constantly says, I’m “waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Hypercritical and overly skeptical, I find and nitpick the tiniest things to mark as a red flag because God forbid anyone be perfect.

This ridiculous worm question is really my way of asking, “Will you love me forever, no matter what?” A vow that has kept me away from commitment for so long. Because if people really knew the REAL me — the ridiculous questions, the scattered brain, the hypercritical, fast-paced, gone-with-the-wind, spontaneous, always-in-my-head me — would they still love me?

Underneath it all, I feel like a worm sometimes. Dirty, not always cute, easy to overlook, burrowing into the dirt and the comfort of my old shadow selves. Would someone still love me under any circumstance? That’s the real question.

So yes, I’ll ask it in the most ridiculous way because I’m too afraid to confront an uncomfortable truth. And the worst part? I’m even more afraid if the answer is good.

The way she treats me shows me more than words ever could. The lengths she’s gone for me already, the depth of who she is — it’s almost as if I can feel the answer already…

But for now, I’ll settle for our worm debate. And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.