Brace yourself. This is a long one. But it needs to be told.
You have 7 days left of being a young 20-something-year-old buck.
Remember that time you were 28 and we had been dating for 3 months?
We were really responsible and patient and had been living together after one month of dating, in a 200 square foot box on the 5th floor of an Florentine apartment building. The view was beautiful, the single bed we shared, not so much.
Regardless, remember when I was away all week for work? You promised me when I returned on Sunday night that you would have dinner and a nice comfy bed waiting for me. It was on Saturday that you told me "the boys from Vicenza are in town", that I should have been wary. Alas, I was naive back then. I thought "Oh, great! I can meet your Army friends!".
Remember how cute it was when you asked me if three of your friends could sleep over that night, in the previously mentioned 200 square foot studio? I was beyond pumped to have the company. But that's not the best part!
I must say though, the icing on the cake is when Scott finally appeared at 3am and initially tried to convince us to roam the streets of Florence with him and "fight bad guys". We politely declined and put him in bed (on the ground, right next to us) as he proceeded to insist on having a conversation for the next two hours. Then, we all finally drifted off to sleep. Sleepovers are fun! Until Scott woke up and started sleep-walking to what he thought was the bathroom but was really our neighbor's front door. Oh, memories!
I look forward to meeting more of your (crazy) friends and I agree to put up with the occasional nights of debauchery they are sure to bring along!