Distinguished

Marcus turned thirty-six today and woke up calling himself “distinguished.” I looked at those gray temples catching the morning light and called him old. He called me mean. I called him sexy. He forgot what we were arguing about.

Distinguished

Works every time. Happy birthday to my favorite nerd who somehow gets better looking with age while I’m over here working overtime to maintain this situation. The audacity of men, honestly.

Thirty-six looks good on you, birthday boy. Even if you did try to put candles on your own coffee this morning because “it’s festive.” This is why I keep you.