Thursday, March 1, 2012
Here With You
From the beginning of our relationship, Andrew and I fell into a pattern of unfiltered honesty with one another, a raw directness that far surpasses polite censorship but falls a safe distance short of straight cruelty. I find it reassuring.
It's good to have someone like that by your side when you vomit on yourself and you look like a house and you raise your voice because the ice cubes were not crushed into small enough chunks.
He's the man who holds my hair back and insists that I'm beautiful and yet reminds me that I'm being a punk about the ice chips.
But then he still gets me the smaller ones, anyway.