It’s a high standard. I know this. Ninety-five percent of guys aren’t going to chase down an airplane already taking off on the tarmac just to return the dried flower that you gave him when he was eight. But the last five percent? That’s what I’m holding out for. If he’s a unicorn, well, then, I’m going unicorn hunting. If the novels I’ve devoured over the years have taught me anything, it’s that a good man will, every once in a while, slow dance in the street.
