Without you, I'm as lonely as an abandoned dog on the side of a highway. I have gift anxiety, even through I don't know when your birthday is. We can spend perfect days shopping and cooking together. I swear, I'll never make wisecracks when you scrape your tires against the curb while parallel parking. If you consent to live with me, I'll clean the toilet every week. I'll do it with my tongue if you ask. I will strike the words "hooters" and "love rockets" from my vocabulary. I'll love you. Even if your name is Mimi and you want me to pronounce it "May May". I will only pass gas underneath the covers and only under the direst of circumstances. Hell, I'll go on a low cholesterol diet. And I won't buy one of those red sports cars when I hit my mid-life crisis. Your parents can come visit us every week, even if your mom is a big witch with a capital B. And your folks don't have to go to a retirement home because they can come live with us. I declare, I'll separate the whites from the colors, I'll learn the mysteries of hot and cold water washes. I'll never huff and puff while waiting for you to put on my makeup. I