It doesn’t bother me. I am mature and understanding and it doesn’t bother me. Not when Jennie has proven to be the best thing that has happened in my life in a long, long time. Not when she cuddles me up and makes me feel happy and loved. It doesn’t bother me. Not until we have our first fight and I bring up a particular subject that makes the air in the room a little bit too thick to cut with lovey-dovey piercing gazes. It doesn’t bother me until she says and I quote: “Let’s leave the past behind, Jisoo. What has happened doesn’t really matter anymore.” That would be more convincing if half of the world’s population stopped reminding me, on a daily basis, that my girlfriend ed them. I mean, let’s set the matter straight (or very gay to be honest). I have things I don’t want to talk about when it comes to my past. I did almost have with a guy when I was still confused, but it doesn’t really affect me, or her, or the relationship. She probably had a childhood crush that made her blush way too much, but then again, it doesn’t affect her, or me, or the relationship. This kind of past we can leave behind, because this kind of past doesn’t really matter anymore. This past doesn’t bother me. But then there are particular things about our pasts that lurk in the shadows as we have our midnight walks after a cute date. Things that dance in her mind each time she zooms out of a conversation and barely pays attention to what I’m saying. Things that make me cringe each time she gets a notification on her phone. Things that haunt us even though we try our best to leave them behind. So allow me to introduce, one of the struggles which irritates me and amuses me the most when it comes to Jennie Kim. (We discussed this once. It’s not that much of a big deal. It doesn’t really bother me.) The Struggles of Having a boy Girlfriend (Let’s talk about sax baby!) THE AMUSING STRUGGLES: How it came down to sax No.1: They’re cheesy and lame and why do they always have you swooning? Ugh. You’re in the cafeteria of the school, wasting your free period playing games on your phone and listening to all these old people who you didn’t really know the name of. You were surprisingly enjoying the songs, the begging sound of the saxophone making you shiver, distracting you from the game with the honey dripping melody that somehow reminded you of the way Jennie spoke, slowly and smoothly, velvet roses being thrown as if some dramatic monologue of Shakespeare was recited each time she opened . And really though, all she said was something like: “You’re such a babe.” You wonder why do you even love her, really. “Why’s my princess listening to jazz music?” she asks as she gives a brief look at the screen of your phone, immediately recognizing the song. You feel yourself blushing, because who even uses the word ‘princess’ anymore?! “Why not listen to jazz music? It’s awesome,” you reply with a shrug, kind of uneasy to approach the main conversation. You’re not really sure why that’s so. “I know, but I never considered you to be the type to like it,” she chuckles, taking one of the earphones from your ear and plugging it in hers. “Neither did I,” you reply truthfully. By now she is sitting next to you, brown eyes melting in yours as you both let yourself be devoured in the music. Her fingers tangle in your hair as she mindlessly starts playing with it. “I really like this one,” you say and she arches her eyebrow questioningly. “Doris Day, I think,” you mumble. “Dream a little dream of me.” “Is that so?” she replies, leaning in to your unoccupied ear, her scent and voice taking your breath away. “I prefer the 1899 version of that song. The one by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong.” You have no idea what she’s talking about and to your surprise, she doesn’t stop there. She keeps saying all these unheard song titles and weird names you couldn’t find a face to match with, a smug smile followed by a dramatic eyebrow raise plastering on her face each time a title sounded flirtatious. She never seemed to fail impressing you with those shiny eyes of hers that flickered the brightness of her mind. Yes, you were falling in love again and again and again. And she kept flirting like you just met. It was always like the first time when it came to Jennie. “Lisa told me you used to frequent this Jazz Bar downtown with Rosé,” you blurt out, interrupting her. She questioningly looked at you and you found yourself in need to ignore her gorgeous eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “I did,” she takes off her earphone and you do the same, the nice atmosphere dying down along with Jennie’s mood. “I feel kinda bad,” you mumble, still uneasy about the conversation. “She said you haven’t gone there since we started dating.” “Oh, babygirl,” she sighs, her fingers intertwining with yours, “you don’t need to feel like that. I just chose not to go there anymore, for particular reasons I guess, but if it’s bothering you so much- “Not bothering me.” “Course not,” she chuckles again, pulling you so close you’re almost sitting on her lap. “We can so kick it tonight if you’re up for it?” You nod in excitement, because an invite was exactly what you were trying to steal from this conversation. “We can so kick it,” you reply, emphasizing her weird expressions which you found too lame, but always had your head spinning. “I’ll pick you up at eight,” she grins. “It’s a date,” you chuckle. “By the way babe,” she wraps her arms around your waist and now you’re definitely on her lap, “when did our school uniform get so suggestive?” she mumbled, her hand travelling the length of your thigh, maybe even making it past your checked skirt. “Oh, shut up already,” you roll your eyes at her and start collecting your things, knowing that the bell is about to ring. “Can you also pick up my dress from the tailor though?” you ask and she sighs. “What’s the point? You’ll take it off after anyway,” she throws a wink and you know your cheeks are flaming red. “Just be there at eight.” “Yes ma’am.” You know the smug grin is still plastered on her face. No.2: They’re show-offs. “Is my girl ready yet,” she asks, her hands over her face, as if she hasn’t been peeking throughout the whole time you’ve been changing. “Yeah, yeah, get your cute up and let’s leave,” you roll your eyes and she chuckles. “Ah, babe, but let me take some pictures first. You look so gorgeous it pains me.” The flash of the camera stops you from mak