I still remember the way my stomach flipped when I first saw her. I tried so hard to keep it cool, but goddamnit she was beautiful.

Question the bravery. Say it’s not courage. Call it a passion.

When they ask me about my future wife, I always tell them that her eyes are the only Christmas lights that deserve to be seen all year long. I tell them that she has a walk that can make an atheist believe in God just long enough to say, ‘God damn’. I tell them that if my alarm clock sounded like her voice, my snooze button would collect dust. I tell them that if she came in a bottle, I would drink her until my vision is blurry and my friends take away my keys. I tell them that if she was a book, I would memorize her table of contents. I would read her, cover to cover, hoping to find typos, just so we could both have something to work on, because aren’t we all unfinished? Don’t we all need editing? Aren’t we all waiting to be read by someone, praying they will tell us that we make sense? She doesn’t always make sense but I swear to God, her imperfections are the things that I love about her the most. I don’t know when I will be married, I don’t know where I will be married, but I do know this: whenever I’m asked to describe my future wife, I do so as best as I can and every single time, she sounds a lot like you. Every single time, she sounds a lot like you.