You were very nice, very pregnant and very tired. I felt guilty for wanting your husband but took solace in knowing that you really were good to him.

Your inherent goodness made me feel like a dark soul. Fabulous memories of exploring Italy together…except your bursting into tears at the Vatican. Darkness isn’t all bad.

You were brilliantly funny and desperately homesick. I wish you’d stayed, but I understand why you couldn’t. We got out of there together, even though she blamed me.

We had the best time in Hamburg. I can’t think of a Trabi without thinking of you and cracking up. That weekend was awesome – mostly because of you.

You treated me like crap for two years and then became my BFF. You catty little gay. I could have been one of your hags so much earlier.

An Austrian boy with an Irish name. Between a little English a little German and a little Latin, it sort of worked. Sort of. Regardless, it was fun.

You were determined to change me and I was determined to resist. You were nice – and right – but missed the point: music is therapy, not scholarship, for me.

Our friends didn’t get our relationship, but we just knew each other, despite differences. You saw through the walls and had me figured out in about 10 minutes.

You’re a pretentious bastard and I love you for it: brilliant and aware. You believed in me without enabling me. That was empowering, and you didn’t even know.

Australian Life Form – We played house for a bit and it was easy and fun.  Crazy levels of domesticity that were somehow innocent, even though we weren’t.