I was always told that when I hit thirty, life would be great, life would be a blast, a party. Boy were they wrong. My life wasn't perfect by any means, in reality actually, it was as if I had woken up on the wrong side of the bed, took a wrong turn or something. Everything started to go wrong in my life and I couldn't change it or go back and fix it. I had no control of any of the circumstances, good or bad. Everything was a mess, altered. Then he came along. He helped. I quickly found out that the one great thing about turning thirty was him. His ability to take the reins. His control. He was a risk, but risks are worth taking, right?