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    Drunk On Love

    | USA | Marriage & Partners, Top

    (My husband is usually a very quiet, reserved person, but alcohol changes that completely. He becomes very… talkative. He is at a work event where he knows he is going to be drinking, so I plan to pick him up from it. He is a bit tipsy and silly when I pick him up.)

    Husband: “That was a fun event.”

    Me: “I’m glad! You are a little drunk though. Did you eat already?”

    Husband: “PSSHHHH! I’m not DRUNK drunk. Just a LITTLE drunk drunk.”

    Me: *laughing* “Whatever. Do you want to pick something up on the way home or do you want to go home?”

    Husband: “Oh, oh… I could do… a Starbucks.”

    (He only orders one thing from Starbucks, so I knew what he meant. I go there and get out.)

    Me: “Okay, [Husband], wait here and I’ll bring it to you.”

    Husband: “Mmmmk.”

    (I go in and order his drink and something for myself. My husband then walks in and stands too close to me. At this point, you can’t really tell that he’s tipsy unless he opens his mouth.)

    Husband: *whispering loudly to me* “Do you think the cashier can tell?”

    Me: “Tell what?”

    Husband: “You knowww. That I’m druuuunk.”

    (The cashier looks at me. She can hear everything he is saying because of course she could. I shake my head.)

    Me: “No, she can’t. Go to the car.”

    Husband: “But you’re so hot.”

    Me: *getting embarrassed* “That’s great, honey. Go to the car.”

    Husband: “Like, sooo hot. If I was an artist… I would paint you on… a mural… wall. On a wall. With paint… for murals.”

    (The cashier tries to not laugh.)

    Me: “Thank you… Time to go to the car.”

    Husband: “I’m so luuuucky.”

    Me: “Yes, you are. Car. Go to it.”

    Husband: *hugging me* “Mmmmm, you smell nice. I’m lucky you smell nice.”

    Me: “Let’s pick this up at home, okay?”

    (My husband tries to wink, but he’s tipsy, so he just blinks at me weirdly. He then turns around and walks out and goes back to the car.)

    Me: *to the cashier* “I am so incredibly sorry.”

    Cashier: *laughing* “Don’t worry about it, ma’am. I think that’s kind of sweet.”

    Your Old Days Are Numbered

    | Charlotte, NC, USA | Dating

    (We’ve been together for about two years and have never had the ‘numbers talk.’ I knew his number was high and didn’t care. He’d told me he didn’t care what mine was but didn’t want to know.)

    Me: “Okay, what’s your number?”

    Boyfriend: *pauses and gives me a puzzled face* “I honestly don’t know.”

    Me: “Come on! Ballpark. 20-100? 100-500?”

    Boyfriend: *looking frustrated* “I don’t know! Somewhere between 10 and 10,000!”

    Me: *sigh* “I guess I’ll take that.”

    (Two minute pause.)

    Me: “Just in case you’ve ever wondered, my number isn’t even in that range.” *meaning less than 10*

    (He responds without missing a beat.)

    Boyfriend: “You slut!” *stands up abruptly and strides away*

    Me: *speechless*

    (He was just looking for a dramatic departure while he refilled his soda. We’ve been together six years now and I still affectionately refer to him as my Mr. 10,001.)

    A Fine Set Of (Double) Standards

    | NY, USA | Dating

    (My boyfriend has often expressed his theory that when a woman says “It’s fine,” you know that it most definitely is NOT fine.)

    Me: “So, I want to have a joint birthday party with [Friend] but I have to wait until he gets home from his job in [Other Country]. Which means the first Saturday we can do it is your birthday.”

    Boyfriend: “You’re going to have a party, on my birthday, for other people’s birthdays?”

    Me: “Well, I was gonna say that it could be for you, too…”

    Boyfriend: “It would be all your friends, though.”

    Me: “So invite your friends, too.”

    Boyfriend: “But…”

    Me: “Look, do you want me to do it a different day? I can just do it a different day.”

    Boyfriend: *looking away* “No, it’s fine…”

    Me: “Did you just give me the girl ‘It’s fine’?”

    Boyfriend: “Oh, s***… I did, didn’t I?”

    He Is Soda-pressing

    | Jackson, TN, USA | Dating

    (My boyfriend and I are getting fast food. This conversation happened in front of the soda machine.)

    Me: “Sometimes when I’m sad, I’ll pour myself some soda and pretend that the fizzy sound is applause. So even if the world is against me I still have bubbles on my side.”

    Boyfriend: “But even the bubbles eventually fizz out, and you’re left with no one again.”

    Me: “I think that’s the part where you’re supposed to say, ‘I’ll always be by your side, babe.'”

    Boyfriend: “I can’t make that promise. Of the two of us, I’m most likely to die first, so you’ll only have your artificial and imaginary applause to keep you company after that.”

    Me: “But by then I’ll have our kids though, right?”

    Boyfriend: “Who will have all grown up and have lives of their own to deal with. I sure hope the future has lots of soda for you.”

    Me: “Gee, thanks, a**-hole.”

    (We broke up not long after that. He was just too pessimistic for me to handle.)

    Hooked On Class

    | NY, USA | Dating

    (My boyfriend and I are going to Las Vegas on vacation the following week. Because of this we end up discussing prostitutes, and this prompts a theoretical question.)

    Me: “Do you think I would make money as a hooker?”

    Boyfriend: “Maybe in [sketchy neighborhood in the city].”

    Me: *indignant* “Really? So, no one would pay for me in a nice part of town? Are you saying I’m not high class or something?”

    Boyfriend: “Okay, okay. I take it back; you would make money as a hooker anywhere you set your mind to.”

    Me: *pats his hand* “That’s better, thank you.”

    Boyfriend: “We’re the only couple I know who would get into an argument because I doubted your potential as a prostitute.”

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