I worry sometimes

About what?

I worry that you’ll leave me

Why?

Because you’re beautiful,
And I am not.
I mean, look at you,
There by the window

How long have we been together?

Eighteen years, as of
Saturday

If I had wanted to wander off,
I could have found the door by now,
Even from over here,
“By the window”

I’m not the world’s greatest husband

And I’m not the world’s greatest wife.
I mean, I’m probably top 5%, but
Not necessarily the greatest.
Anyway, what’s got you worried
At this point in our relationship?

I don’t know.
I might be a little depressed,
I guess.
Or feeling old
And fat

Interesting.
We women are never told
That men have self-image issues, too.

No, they are derisively called
“Midlife crises”,
And dismissed as pathetic

There may be something to what you say.
Though I also think a lot of guys don’t
Have the same level of self-awareness
That you have.
Maybe it’s writing
All that poetry

Not sure about
Cause-and-effect order, there, but yes

Look.
I am not going to leave you.
I’m going on a four-day vacation with you
Starting tomorrow.

And you won’t be secretly wishing
You were there with Milo Ventimiglia, instead?

Jack Pearson sets
An unattainable standard for all men, I realize.
But no, he only has eyes for Rebecca, anyway.
I more like the Randall-type,
Which you are, by the way

Minus the abs.
I do have the anxiety, though

And you can do all that
Sexy math.
Chicks dig math

I never knew that