Who Else But You

Who else but you can make me throw my head back, open my mouth wide like Julia Roberts, and cackle Maleficent-style in the middle of a Chinese buffet regardless of death stares from nearby patrons trying to stuff themselves full of mediocre crab legs?

Who else but you would I be with at Albatross Pub 7 months pregnant playing Gin Rummy all night long and not ordering a single alcoholic drink? (Sorry, waitress.)

Who else but you would lecture me about making the wrong decisions over and over again but still open up your door and home every time I come, dragging my broken heart behind me?

Who else but you would I have had the most perfect day of eating our way through SF, buying panda hats, winning the Wicked Lottery, meeting Eden Espinosa, and clubbing in the Castro with?

Who else but you can unselfishly make someone laugh and feel good about themselves even when YOU are going through a rough time?

Who else but you can listen to me sing musical numbers at the top of my lungs and not care that I'm a dancer not a singer, about my pitch or key, but genuinely enjoy it because I'm expressing myself.

Who else but you would I cry softly about knowing I'm missing your birthday and how pivotal of a year it has been for you?

While I'm not there in person, I am definitely there in spirit. Happy Birthday, Steven. I love you, my best friend.