But there was always something to hold off the death blow: a global pandemic or a downstairs neighbor's sudden, inharmonious, a cappella rendition of "Landslide" in the middle of a mounting argument.
I decided that if we weren't going to break up, I would treat this like all the other relationships I maintained: if I was going to commit, I was going to commit. I began to relish having a boyfriend -- someone who could finally reach the top of my cabinets, a default plus-one for parties, and send me daily texts wishing me a good morning. I had stumbled headfirst into love (my first love!), and it was easy enough to convince myself that when Jake asked for my patience, it meant he saw a future for us.