Yep. On my last birthday I went to a bar down the street from her office, knocked back about five or six glasses of rye whiskey and Coke, got completely hammered and depressed and became desperate to talk to her. What I wanted to say was "you're an angel and I love you and miss you"; what I ended up texting after my common sense reared up and broke through the haze was "think we can move our appointment up a few days?"

Okay, I did tell her she was an angel.