As we approach Valentine’s day, I am thinking about you and wondering what you’ll be like. It’s very possible that I’ll never meet you at all- but in case I do, below are the promises I will make to you now and keep forever:
I will never ask to dress in matching outfits. That is the realm of the gelded and the inhumane.
I will never call you “hubby.” If ever I have the desire to call you “hubby” that means that I despise you, and I will leave before that happens.
I will never refer to you as “my person.”
That particular nomenclature applies to the homonculous I have kept in my basement for all these years.
I will never say I want to “do life” with you. If there’s anything I want to do with you, it’s drugs.
I will never call you my “best friend.” My best friend is, today and always, the person in the room who has the most drugs.
I will never refer to you as my “partner in crime.” I already have one of those and he’s doing his dime in Chino like a real stand-up guy.