To Andy on Valentine’s Day
Andy –
Do you remember that first Valentine’s Day? We were at Shannon’s apartment, and busy being angry at each other for some reason. I didn’t understand you back then. I didn’t understand anything. But, in the past four years, I’ve come to some realizations.
Your fondness for hot mustards of all variety knows no bounds. That you’ll order wontons only to break off the crispy corners and dip them in spicy mustard—abandoning the best part of the wonton—astounds me. I’m also deeply appreciative as I get the abandoned wonton centers.
Your knee sock collection is infinite. I don’t believe I’ve seen you wear the same pair twice. It’s also possible that I’m rendered mindless by your socks as their reveal is often accompanied by bare skin.
You are frighteningly competent in everything that you do. It doesn’t matter whether it’s restoring homes or making chicken mole or getting my entire family to show up for Friday night dinners because there’s nothing you can’t do.
You are exceedingly tolerant. That you allow me to camp in your office instead of banishing me to my own is generous, although it’s possible neither of us know how to work independently anymore. I’m sorry about gradually stealing all of the pencils from your desk.
Your hair really will smother and suffocate me in my sleep one of these nights. It’s a risk I take willingly. I can’t work without you, and I definitely can’t sleep without you either.
I’ve also realized that it will probably take us another four years to get married if for no other reason than we can’t decide on a menu for the reception. But I don’t want to share wontons with anyone else.
Love,
Patrick
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