My platonic wusband is so otherworldly perfect that I could write a 97-book epic saga, each book with 87 chapters and a deluxe emotional appendix, and still not scratch the surface of their brilliance. I could build an entire cinematic universe with 23 spin-off trilogies, 17 tragic backstory anthologies, and a goddamn musical Broadway adaptation that makes everyone in the audience cry, levitate, and question the meaning of love