My mind loves absolutes. He's perfect. She's a bitch. I'm sure of it, depending on the day, the hour, the second, then it turns on a dime. Total 180. No baby steps, grand sweeping gestures, no questions asked. This is it!! Plan accordingly. Bags packed for the honeymoon, or to flee out the back door.
I know what he's thinking. She's out to get me. Fact, Jack. Stand your position. Stake your territory. Piss on their lawn.
Turns out I'm usually wrong.
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