I had such big plans when I started the summer - much like I always do. I was going to keep a daily blog as ManFriend and I ran around the country together, enjoying both our honeymoon and the longest stretch of uninterrupted time together in over a year. I had big dreams of gorgeous photographs reeking of American joy - the thrill of the road, the joy of New England, our bare feet drenched in the Atlantic Ocean, sunlight glistening through huge refreshing glasses of white wine. I even went out and bought a new camera in the hopes of aiding my quest to bring the kinds of crisp, clean, profound images to the pictures I'd envisioned.
I do this to myself all the time - I create these grand visions of experiences we'll share; I've imagined our entire lives together several times over. I see us in New York City, moving to a Brooklyn brownstone and taking our children to the Met on the weekends. I see us in Buffalo, somewhere downtown while I run a campaign and live a quiet life as a Bills fan. I see us childless, growing old together, completely immersed in our careers and each other. And while I'd love to become the kind of person that I could create if I took all of the best qualities from all of my best friends: social graces, self-discipline, infinite patience, photographic and musical talent - and I'll continue to strive via one self-improvement project after another, every once in a while I'd just like to feel like a married person. As lame as that sounds...
