Broke up with my partner of four years last night. Then we did what any normal people would do: We went out for margaritas and hot wings. Six hours later, we're reminiscing about old times and I'm giving him a hard time for his lack of devastation about me leaving him. He tells me I've been hinting at it for months, so what's the big deal? I say yah, you're right, and order a Modelo Negra. In conclusion, we're both of the mind that we're the best and most communicative buddies that could ever date, and if there's a time and place for us to be together again, we'll do the whole marriage and children shebang; but for now he's a deadbeat, vagabond, aspiring doctor and I'm an anti-career, deep-in-a-lone-dark-room writer, and we're ill prepared for matrimony and responsibility, much less keeping each other happy. Happy ending? I think so.