Maybe because Kevin and I knew each other for 25 years before we became us, we established a no-bullshit zone. It’s not that we never had run-ins. We did, but we had depth, connection and intimacy that went way beyond the physical. Ours was the kind of relationship we both sought our whole lives & never found. It was crazy, sexy, cool, and so were we.

Kevin believed that somehow his mom brought me back into his life so he could have the kind of love she always wanted for him. Who was I to disagree? It made me feel safe—like he wouldn’t hurt or dump the woman his mom brought! He didn’t.

He loved me so well—with honest, masculine courage and vulnerability. Kevin was such a man. He made way for me to be, in all my femininity. He honored my mind, thoughts and dreams. Kevin got me and my writing—all of it. He read it all. He gave me pens and wrote me epic love letters. We danced, laughed, traveled, watched movies and TV, and talked. That guy could talk!

I don’t regret one single moment or feel anything is left unsaid. I don’t question how Kevin felt about me, our relationship, Hilary Clinton, my dad, drugs, my book, guns, cops, or basketball. Ok, maybe basketball. He knew I didn’t care and it was cool.

We thought we’d have a long time together. I thank God ours was no rose-colored-rearview-mirror relationship or overly focused on the future. Sure, we had plans. We planned on being in New Orleans the day of his memorial service. We intended to enjoy the trip Kevin won for outstanding sales booked for Dublin, Ireland in April.

Kevin and I were always excited about our time together. Although we had less than two calendar years as a couple, I feel like I got a decade worth of love—the most real love I ever had. We lived our moments full. We didn’t miss a thing—except more time.