'Richard': Number Thirteen

After a mostly perfect evening of Cherry Berry and a sorta party, you asked me if I had had a perfect evening. I don't know how serious you were, but it gave me food for thought.

What defines a perfect evening?

I thought about evenings that I thought were close to perfect. My grad party. That bad movie night. Prom. They were mostly connected to you. Oh, there were other ones certainly. But even though I'm not better than you at nearly anything, and you make fun of my limited knowledge outside of books--I love hanging out with you.

You make me smile, laugh, giggle--when I'm tired. You inspire me to get off my computer and actually accomplish things. 

So, perfect evenings are when we hang out--because you generally respect me, and are generally kind enough not to be overly frank with me--like L was. That could've been a perfect evening when she and I went to Wal-mart and spoke in British accents. But then she ruined it by essentially insulting me and saying that I was going to get hurt being in a relationship--especially with you. Agreed, I don't want to get hurt. Insulting me in the process of warning me, though...isn't a good way to win friends.

I hope we have more perfect evenings...