It’s fifty years. At a stretch. It’s thirty at a minimum.
And I have spent less than 2% of it with him yet.
So how do I know that it will last the rest of the 98% of time? (You know I’m not that very drunk, since I can do all this math)
I guess I knew when I met him for the first time. With less than 0.01% on the tally board.
Or I will know when I finish the 100%.
Or I might never know.
You see, we have been grossly misled. By society, by books, by romantic comedies, and by happily ever afters.
There is no such thing. That is what we need to know.
Not the acceptability of someone as a particular someone. Not the passage of time as a burden to be borne. Not love as a conquers all solution.
All we need to know with any certainty is that when we sleep at night, it’s better with someone, than without someone.
That’s how I know.
When I turn in bed and find his arm blocking my side of the bed.
I know I don’t mind. This. Or any other space he might want to take. In the current 100% of my time, he can have all the 100%.
That is all one needs to know.