Partway through our third anniversary celebration day, I told Jenya that I was going to start celebrating our anniversary with someone else. I mean, she's a good time and all, but I am going to start spending my anniversary with someone who doesn't go on and on about wanting to wash her hands before eating the M&Ms we just bought even though she's wearing gloves. Or someone who doesn't find it necessary to grab my tits while I am doing the hard work of guiding us through the light deprivation corridors at the ICA and then innocently claim "how else am I supposed to hold on to you?" Someone who doesn't make the cute lips pursed and blushing face when she misses her fifteenth "easy" pool shot in a row. "If I can't make this shot, I am retarded," she would claim, before missing the shot. Someone who doesn't inform me that I don't need my own personal pitcher of sangria at the tapas bar and instead we should share one. Someone who doesn't give me homemade fortune cookies with my own fortunes in them and expect me to break open and eat them all immediately.