During dinner, Mr. X discusses the economy and politics for a bit and educates me on the info I missed since I replaced CNN with E! news a long time ago. He doesn't mind my interest in pop-culture and things work well because he is patient and explains everything in a way a really good professor might. The only issue with Mr. X on this front is that he is very persuasive, so his liberal democratic ideals rub off on me, but I'm fairly liberal and democratic anyways so it's fine.
After dinner, Mr. X and I walk home. We go upstairs and I begin to read the stack of magazines Conde Nast sends me. They attach each magazine with a press release, hoping I will write a blurb about them in one of my articles. I like this. Conde Nast respects me as a journalist, and this appeals to me greatly. I peruse these articles for the upcoming trends of the season, with the comforting sound of Mr. X's tick-tick-ticking on the laptop. Mr. X wears glasses when he works, and I find him cutest then. I kiss him and the edges of the frame pinch me as our faces touch. I am happy.
After working, we lie in bed together talking about random odds and ends, I fall asleep to his humming as he plays with my hair.
I love Mr. X.
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