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Last week I was worried about presenting a media plan to a client’s board of directors. I’ve never been good at presenting and tend to stress out way more than I need to.

The night before my meeting, I explained to FSB(f) everything that could go wrong and how I would ultimately fail, lose the client, let down my agency, get fired and end up living on the streets. He rolled his eyes, but patiently listened because that’s what good boyfriends do when they want you to put out.

The next day I found this note in my laptop bag:

I was so busy worrying about why he thought I would lick a note, that I didn’t have time to obsess over possible failure. Needless to say, the presentation went okay and he got some.