Something bad was about to happen. My wife was being clever again.
Love makes you want to be a better man—right, right. But maybe love, real love, also gives you permission to just be the man you are.
Because isn’t that the point of every relationship: to be known by someone else, to be understood? He gets me. She gets me. Isn’t that the simple magic phrase?
It is always consoling to think of suicide;it’s what gets one through many a bad night.
…and you drink a little too much and try a little too hard. And you go home to a cold bed and think, ‘That was fine’. And your life is a long line of fine.
I don’t understand the point of being together if you’re not the happiest.