Lately, it seems I find ways to take pleasure from the simplest of moments. There's a moment. That moment. The moment just after when you say something and then I say something in response, something that will probably result in you getting upset, or jealous or doubtful, or upset because you're jealously doubtful. In that moment, before you've had a chance to voice your misplaced and probably irrational (insert negative feeling here), there is hope. In itself, the moment does not span longer than one, maybe two seconds but during that brief time, I am hopeful. Although I am well aware of the empirical data, and recent trends, in that moment, it doesn't matter, because my benevolently inherent optimism kicks in and I have, if even the slightest amount of hope. A variable, if you will. Although there may be probable outcomes and hypothetical scenarios which will most likely occur, despite extrapolation, a variable is still a variable. Until that moment where you open your mouth and hope is purged out from within me, anything remains possible.

And as I sit here, listening to you rant about some ridiculous show that enthrones wedding dresses to the point where you might think having a nice dress is more important than marrying the right person, and I stare blankly, not saying a word, I just hope you don't realize that I really don't care. I put up with your feminine rants and let you hold the remote occasionally simply because I am scared, scared of saying or doing or thinking the wrong thing, even though I know I can't escape it. At least I have that moment of hope to look forward to.