A Practice In Daydreaming

My hero is a best friend and a ruthless critic. He stands up for me and corrects me when I say that Porto is the capital city of Portugal. My hero tells me that he’s proud of me every day and promises to mar my face with laugh lines in our old age. He is there to hold my hand at any given moment, but pushes me forward when he sees the fear of rejection flash across my face. He is tall and guarded, ambitious and unconditional in supporting his friends. My hero is OK with the fact that I can talk circles around him about media and history, and likes that our Jeopardy scores are almost always the same. He trades home cooked meals for washing the dishes and has an affinity for cable-knit sweaters. My hero gives me time, space, his concern, pretzels, games of Backgammon, and his favorite sweatpants from college.

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