Me: Imma clean it up, uncover our couch (the one that wouldn't fit through our apartment doorway...long story), set up some chairs, and put up pretty lights!!! I want a nice place to hangout on nice nights damnit!!!

*looks through all our lights. All the Xmas lights are dead, but all my 12+yr old Halloween ones all work.*

Me: This is fucking destiny.

*Partner comes down to check on me, sees me sprawled on the couch like a fucking queen, whiskey in one hand, pipe in the other, Halloween lights on, and "Rock you like a Hurricane" (the Rachel Bloom one) on full blast on my speakers.*

Me: Whatcha think?

Partner: ......I love you.

And that makes me sad. I had to assure her that I don’t give a fuck about someone’s orientation. I think I recall saying something about how “few things would make me stop being friends with you,” and it’s true. If she keeps being the good person I know she is, it’s true. Very few things. Least of all her sexual orientation.