In 2009, my future wife (then girlfriend) got me the best present I had ever received — a PS3. I did not deserve this present. I was a 30-year-old man who was a walking collection of red flags. My shelves were milkcrates. I had recently gotten out of a long-term relationship. My employment history was heavy on “barista” and “dog walker” and light on “jobs that provide health insurance and lead to lucrative careers.”