And it was there, in front of the Venus de Milo, that I realized: I don’t think I’m cut out to support a male artist. And I’m certainly not cut out to have a family with one. That, irrespective of where Andy’s career might go, I would spend my life with a man who was so in need of affirmation from strangers that he stood on stage every night, even when he wasn’t being paid, even when he was needed at home, because he wanted them to find him funny. Because he wanted them to love him. There was nothing wrong with Andy and there was nothing wrong with the choices he’d made. He could make a woman
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