Boyfriend: “I want to marry your boobs.”

Me: “You can’t just marry my boobs! You have to marry me!”

Boyfriend: *sombre tone* “Do you take these breasts to be yours: to fondle and to suckle, in firmness and in sagginess, in wetness and dryness, so long as you can tolerate the woman to whom they are attached?” *happy tone* “I do!”

Me: *defeated* “You may now motorboat the boobies.”