Here’s me and my valentine, back in, well, not quite “the day” but a day—and from the looks of it, a happy one.
He (B) has known me since I was 18. I turned 25 during the first months we lived together. He deserves a Purple Heart, the Medal of Freedom, Medal of Honor, the Legion d’ honneur, and certainly something from the American Psychiatric Association: Patience and Understanding Above and Beyond the Call of Duty.
I asked him just before we moved in together, in 1976, “Are you sure?” He said, “Absolutely.” Since then, the only wise decision I’ve ever made is never to ask him that again.