We've been together two and half years now, me and Fletch. That's a fair amount of time for any relationship. We've had our ups and downs, we've had some big arguments (he usually wins) and he doesn't tell me he loves me even though I tell him all the time. There are little signs that our relationship is progressing, we have our set backs like any partnership but occasionally the communication is good enough to produce fireworks. Like yesterday.
He's getting on a bit now, but like any commitment I won't bow out just because he might not be up for it in the future, I will be there to the end unless of course I go first, I'm no spritely young thing any more. In sickness and in health they say, for better or for worse, lets keep this affair going - working at it everyday even when we sometimes don't feel like it.
What a privilege we were introduced in our later years - and as quoted by Torquato Tasso:
"Love is when he gives you a piece of your soul, that you never knew was missing"