Me: I need to write my post.
Him: What? You need to ride my post?
Me: Well, thank you for that.
Him: For what?
Me: For reminding me that I wanted to write about what it’s like to live with a man.
Him: What? Where do you want me to put my hand?
Me: Are we out of pears?
Him: What’s that you said? A quickie upstairs?
Me: Are we getting take-out?
Him: Of course we can make out. Come over here.
Me: Give me a second…I just have to ask Ilana a question.
Him: What’s that about your ass?
Me: I’m almost ready to go, I just have to put on my face.
Him: What do you want to put on my face?
Me: I want to watch that movie. Remember? I can’t remember the name of it. Oh, come on. Remember?
Him: Oh right. I think it’s called Conquest. Jenna Jameson is in it. I remember you saying you wanted to see that.
Me: I really, really love my job.
Him: You love blow jobs? That’s so funny…so do I!
I cannot make reference to the size of anything or the shape of anything or the, um, hardness of anything without it ending in a “why thank you!” or a “that’s what she said.”
I cannot walk past myÂ husbandÂ without fending off an ass grab or a boob grab.
I cannot use the word BALLS without there being some sort of 12-year-old follow-up joke.
I cannot make a reference to the word “behind” without some sort of ass retort.
I cannot imagine it any other way.
Although I could do with fewer tit grabs.
(“What did you say, baby? You need a tit grab?”)