Someone who can see that I'm really the red patent leather stillettos of my pin striped suit, who can appreciate my desire to live back on the northside with no doorbell and my cousin passed out in front of the Elvira pinball machine (and maybe a 2-player HydroThunder game too) with jacuzzi bubbles doin their bubbling, and a big comforter to wrap myself in as I eat kiwi, drink a Kronenberg 1664, and watch re-runs of classic Michigan Football games, MacGyver, and In Living Color... and yet understands why I have to do what I'm doing. Someone who knows real life and real death and gives love with their soul.