The next night we went on our first date and she was so funny and pretty but more importantly she emits some gentle power that makes me want to be good. You’ll think it frivolous of me to say I knew I’d marry her on that first date, but the truth is I feel in love with her when she hit me with that bottle. Like Cupid in a riot.
From the first date I changed. No more women. Well, actually, thousands of women. I wake up to a different one each day, but they’re all her.
She’s sleeping next to me now, tranquil and silently beguiling it’s impossible the ally her with the incandescent girl that blazes through the day. Her hands rests on her shoulder and I can see the ring I gave her when I asked her to marry me, at midnight on New Year’s Eve in India, under a full moon, a blue moon. Once in a blue moon. She said yes. She chose me, bottled me and cuffed me. And now this is my life, my girl, my beautiful woman.
Just her and the revolution.