Cute Brian saves my mood a lot. Cute Brian "gets" me on the platypus days. Cute Brian is cute, and Brian.
The weekend was a little rough, what with the universal rejection of the entire male population of Metropolis, including the one man who is still (technically) my husband. And Cute Brian doesn't tell me to snap out of it. Cute Brian doesn't tell me to quit wallowing in my pajamas. Cute Brian says stuff like this:
"How could I not love you...you're The Mags. And the people who don't see that are way too stupid to live."
Sometimes when I'm feeling particularly inferior, I don't think I deserve his friendship. But I hope he never figures that out.
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