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Here is my theory on emotional cycles: The chemicals that make up my person, those glands that make me human, yearn to be exercised -- crying is one such exercise, as the excessive joy and misery one perceives is a buildup of energy that must be purged. I have never cried without feeling cleansed and refreshed afterwards. The stronger the pull on my tears, the better it feels once I've shed them.

David returns with popcorn, port, and a welcome surprise -- chocolate! Salt, sugar, Pamprin, and alcohol ensure balance. The title sequence theme music causes waves of emotion to course through me. I turn to David, who is sitting quietly in his black leather chair.

"Thank you," I say, but what I mean is, "Thank you for loving me, thank you for being so amazing and patient and, God, I don't deserve you, how do you put up with me, I'm so lucky to have you, so happy, so fucking grateful."

I look at David, urging him to read my mind, for I know if I utter one more word, I will become a blubbering mess.

"No worries," he says, taking note of the glistening sheen in my eyes. Then, with a long-overdue sigh, he lifts his hand to his scalp to gauge the damage and adds, "I figure we'll only have to go through this another 255 times...not that I'm counting."

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