Some say one is the loneliest number. But as far as Arabic numerals go (a heretofore incalculable figure), two can be the most repugnant and uninviting. Still, my new boyfriend and I are getting along swimmingly, as most couples do before their six-week honeymoon segues into a bitter emulsion of two insoluble personalities. But until then, cheers to this newfound homosexual liaison!

Your penchant for intimate details begs me to describe the lucky lad. His name is Jerry, and we’ve been dating for a few days now. Though he is shorter than I care to admit, Jerry makes up for his diminutive stature in not-so-small ways. For instance, he’s a great listener. Friends and family know better than to ask how my day is going, but Jerry absorbs my selfishly self-therapeutic rants with the patience of a full-time special education teacher. For this very reason, Jerry’s a real catch, and I’d be a fool to let him go.

Jerry does not attend school in the academic sense of the word, but the nature of his profession leaves him entirely submerged for most of the day. Still, his outlook on life is somehow buoyant, sparked by a passion for food, friends and play. It’s this appreciation of simplicity that I find most appealing about Jerry. If only I, too, could be satisfied with so little. But who knows? Maybe I can.

This may appear rashly impulsive, but Jerry and I have already decided to live together. As a minimalist, Jerry has few belongings, so his presence in our 183 square foot dorm room does not seem to bother my roommate. I feel warmer and more genial in his company, and I’m sure he’d say the same of my own. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to my partner, Jerry: