Human experience, especially in love, is so surprisingly, startlingly similar sometimes.
We’re not poetry aficionados by any stretch of the imagination, but this article by Maura Kelly in the Paris Review struck a chord. (Affirmation through the experience of others and all that.)
He also wasn’t hamstrung by his intelligence or artistic inclinations, like so many other men that I’d dated; he wasn’t self-loathing. He was kind, maybe even loving. He wanted to help people. He understood how important literature is for survival. A once-in-a-lifetime person.