My cynicism and fear of commitment fades temporarily, ever so slightly, every time we speak. You are approaching your 58th anniversary. 58 fucking years. I mean, you amaze me. You and David. David and You. (The thought of losing myself in a pair, in a duo, in an “Angie and —-” is terrifying but when I see you two, I want to be terrified.) David is 79 and yet he courts you more passionately then the male population of my generation as a whole. “They don’t make men like that anymore” comes to mind, a tired phrase but one reeking with truth. I can watch you two all day and not tire of it, it’s difficult to tire of witnessing a rarity.
To Lolita and David, Happy 58th Anniversary.
angieblurb posted this
