It’s S’s birthday today. He is 231 in dog years, and therefore highly deserving of breakfast in bed, a day at the art galleries, and all the peach bellinis a man can drink. So he got them.
S and I met when we were both seventeen, and both dating other people. One of the other people was my sister. Umm. Yes. And so she introduced him to the family, and I looked at him, and my very first thought was ‘Ohhhhh, damn.’ Because he was seriously ever so much cuter than my boyfriend, and he was dating my sister. Damn was quite polite for what I felt at the time. And then he turned out to be not only cuter, but funnier and sweeter as well, and my heart was melting like butter on a hot plate, and then, and then, my idiot sister dumped him, the fool, and I took a flying leap at him and we have been An Item almost incessantly ever since.
In this day and age this is quite, quite amazing.
As is he, bless his mad viking ginger beard.
