Technically Mark and I are still newlyweds, so shouldn't our conversations be peppered with sweet nothings and an offputting number of terms of endearment?
I know that romance gives way to real life and frankly I'm not into poetry and serenades. But some of the conversations that have snaked their way into our daily lives are just beyond even my wildest visions of married life.
Here's a sneak peek at the 50 Shades of West St Paul pillow talk.
ME (after using new pomegranate sugar scrub in the shower): What do you think of how I smell?
MARK (thoughtfully): I'd say nine days out of ten you smell OK.
ME: Um, WHAT?
MARK: Well, you know, everyone stinks sometimes...
ME (sticking arm in his face): I meant this new bath stuff!
MARK: Oh. That smells pretty good.
MARK: Want a backrub, honey?
ME (assuming this is not a sincere offer but a barter): That would be great, I have my period.
MARK: Never mind.
ME (harrumphing): I knew it.
ME (pleased about one of the only two* upsides to being ill, losing weight. This is important because it's Minnesota, it's winter, and I have a profoundly defective internal thermostat.): Look, babe! I can layer my pants three at a time now to stay warm because they're so baggy!
ME (disgustedly): But you aren't listening. I don't want to gain the weight back.
MARK: I don't care how you look, honey. Have I ever complained? (This would mean more had his eyes broken contact with the video game even once during the exchange. And also if he hadn't ever complained. See above story about my BO, when I inquired about my scented body scrub.)
*The only other upside is not being forced to drive during crappy winter weather when required to be somewhere thirty miles away every day, such as work.
ME: Let's go out to dinner tonight with your brother and sister. We have a $20 Applebee's gift card or $100 in gift cards for Burger Jones - either of those places is right nearby. You can pick.
MARK: OK, let me think.
-tick tock tick tock tick tock -
ME: So where shall we go out to dinner?
MARK: We really shouldn't go out to dinner, we don't have the money to be doing that.
ME (silently fuming over the idea of fourth-time leftovers and wondering how he remembers every line of every movie he's ever seen but cannot recall the conversation we had 47 seconds ago.)
ME: Don't pee off the porch, that's disgusting!
MARK: How did you know it was me?
ME: You peed an M in the snow.
MARK (indignantly): Well, nobody saw me. It was early in the morning.
ME: WE LIVE IN THE CAPITAL CITY OF MINNESOTA! It's not like we're on a farm in Alabama.
MARK (now irritated with me): Whatever, Mom.