It makes me happy. And it makes me miserable. By the fourth glass of wine, I become aware of myself struggling not to tell everyone at the dinner table, I’m luckier than all of you sitting here tonight, I’m in love, desperately in love, and this is total agony, and none of you is helping, because from the look on your faces, none of you knows a thing about love, and frankly, neither did I until now.
