“How are you so perfect?” I ask. And single, I think. A man like him should be cherished and loved by someone who can see his value. “Excuse me?” he says. “You’re the most amazing person on the face of the earth. I can’t believe you haven’t been there every day of my entire life.” “It feels like I have,” I mutter. “Like we’ve been doing this—thing—forever. You’re just so smart and funny—” “—No, fuck no, that’s you,” he insists. “And you can sing! How do you not know how fucking amazing you are?” “Takes one to know one,” I say.
