My Friend Mark

So, here is the story of my friend, Mark.  Since the moment I met this man, I have told him all of my secrets.  Like the big dark scary ones that you want to hide in a closet and never, ever let them see light.  Mark is my friend that I call when I need a verbal hug; he is my man to tell me what to wear on dates; Mark is who I call when I am struggling with who  I am at the very core of my existence.  He always knows exactly what to say, and when there is nothing to say, his smile or hug or glance feels exactly right and perfect.

When we met, Mark and I were both in significantly different places in our lives.  Now that a year and a half has passed, I have had the privilege to get to know an incredible man.  In the past year and a half my life has literally fallen apart.  The past nine months have seriously been living my life a day at a time, pasting a smile on because there was nothing else to do.  Mark has watched me hurt, helped me heal, and given me so many nuggets of wisdom that I cannot honor him enough.  Not even with this ridiculously sappy blog post.  Now, those of you who do not know me at all, may think that this is a call for my man Mark to love me, but that is so ridiculously not the case.  Mark and I are perfect cuddle buddies (we know; we tried) because neither of us want anything saucy with the other. Mostly because boys have cooties.

In other news, he is so incredibly smart and nerdy.  He always looks fancy. Mark lives his life with such compassion, faith and hope.  I don't necessarily mean Blessed Virgin Mary faith, I mean faith in the goodness of people and hope in the equality for human dignity. So, really what I am trying to say is that if in the even of a zombie take-over, I would want Mark on my team.  Because, we would probably be sitting on my balcony drinking beer and just letting it happen.  I know I would have my brains eaten in good company.  I mean, why fight the inevitable.