As a young man of 18 who had recently graduated from a small town high school, I had to adjust to life in the big city and to the realization that I was not in fact the smartest person in the world. I needed somebody to share the rest of my life, my innermost thoughts and know my intimate details. Someone who’d stand by my side and give me support and in return she’d get my support. She would listen to me when I would speak about the world we live in and life in general, though my views may have been wrong; they may even have been perverted, she’d hear me out and not easily be converted to my way of thinking. In fact she’ll often disagree, but at the end of it all, she would understand me.
I needed somebody who cared for me passionately, with every thought and with every breath. Someone who’d help me see things in a different light–all the things I detested I would almost like. I didn’t want to be tied to anyone’s strings; I carefully tried to steer clear of those things. But when I’m asleep, I want somebody who will put her arms around me and kiss me tenderly.
Though things like this make me sick, in a case like this I’ll get away with it, because not too long after arriving in Evanston, I found that somebody I needed, and sixteen years ago we made things official.
Happy Anniversary, Pat.