"Why would I?"
"I don't know, maybe because you love me."
"Is that good enough for you?"
"Yes."
"But why did you even ask in the first place?"
"Because of the same reason. I love you."
"That's the problem. I don't know if it's good enough for me."
"What?"
"Yeah. I don't know. Maybe I believe that marrying someone is different from just loving them. Love is enough when all you want is to be with the other person, have happy moments together. But I don't think it is enough when what you want is the possibility of waking up one day and having to dye each other's hair black. So I'm asking you, what other reasons do you have for asking me to marry you?"
"Because . . . "
"See, you can't think of other reasons."
"I can."
"Let's hear them, then."
"Because you're a bitch. You're pushy and tough and you never let anybody carry you even if it means losing both of your legs from walking. You don't believe others unless they give you enough reasons to, like what you're doing to me now. You take your coffee five times a day, four of them without sugar and cream. And that disgusts me. You walk barefoot every six in the morning, wherever you are. I saw you do that here in the office, and everybody thought you're crazy. Someday you want to be able to invent a medicine that would allow people's hair to never whiten, which is stupid because you hate math and science. And you hate everything that crawls except for snakes."
"Ben . . . "
"Oh, and the best of all those reasons? You are an imperfect woman and I could do better with someone who would have lesser flaws. But I don't care. Because I love your imperfection even if all my friends ask me why. Even if you ask me why."
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