“I’ve got you.” If I weren’t already in a state of limp sloth, those three words would have immobilized me. I don’t think it’s ever solidified as a conscious thought before now, but I’m suddenly very sure that I’ve got you might trump I love you in my book. Maybe it’s the overuse of the latter, the casual and interchangeable way people use love for their favorite ice cream flavor, their sibling, or their spouse. Or maybe it’s just that, given my last few years’ of being alone and adrift, the idea of someone having me has been elevated.
