Robyn and I have lived together for 12 years. We moved in to our city apartment on January 2, 2011 on a Thursday morning when my whole life was changed. She smells like the ocean, windy, salty and wild. Her art is bright and messy. She still doesn’t know I can see the bright pink splotch under the left couch leg. She plays her music too loud so I can’t hear her sing, and I used to think she never cried. Turns out, she only cries in the shower.

I’ve graciously and patiently weathered her boyfriends. Ben smelled like smoke but he made her laugh until his unemployment wasn’t funny anymore. Dillon was stale and serious and he watered down her spirit. Lewis was a bedroom companion until she met Todd. She’s been on 2 dates with him, and I can’t wait to hear what she thinks of him.

I’ve loved Robyn for 12 years. Ever since I saw her in the gallery and her very person overshadowed the creative genius that hung on the walls. She will never love me back. Even unconditional love is contingent upon a few things. She cannot love what she cannot touch. She cannot love what she cannot see. January 2, 2011 changed my life. It was the day I ceased to be as I had been. I was in love and fulfilled. Weightless. No longer in my person.