No, we didn't "do it."
And it only seems to make us fight harder.
But still...it can be nice, in a way.
I still cry at museums. We always got along, big museums, little weird museums, wherever we went. In Chicago, I lost my shit at the modern-art museum. In London, I was OK, for the most part, except for every now and again and a few minutes alone at the British Museum. Yesterday, the Diane Arbus exhibit at the Met was big enough to lose myself from my friend, for a little while. The fact that it was NY in the 60s somehow made it harder. Lots of Coney Island. And a baby that could've been me, well theoretically.
I'm not on my home computer, yet. Hopefully back soon.