What The Peck Are You Talking About?

| Portland, OR, USA | Marriage & Partners

(I recently learned the smiley for penis and was waiting for an opportunity to show off. My husband was taking our car to the shop before heading to work and sent me a message in the group chat with his mom.)

Husband: “Made it to work.”

Me: “I love you.”

Mother-In-Law: “A bushel and a peck, though I am not sure what ‘peck’ means.”

Me: *not aware who I am talking to or that it is a group chat* “8===D derived from the word ‘pecker.’”

Husband: “I am fairly certain that’s not the way they meant this phrase.”

Me: “But it should suffice.”

Mother-In-Law: “I am sure that it is not what it means but I love that [My Name] is so confident to write it here.”

(At this point, Husband sends me a separate message informing that I sent a message in a group chat.)


Hit The Bottle Hard That Night

| Uppsala, Sweden | Boyfriend/Girlfriend

(My boyfriend has come home quite intoxicated from a dinner party and is wobbling around the apartment, getting ready for bed. Communicating with him is almost like talking to a toddler at this point.)

Me: “Honey, be careful now. I put your water bottle on the window sill, but my water bottle is next to the bed and I’ve lost the lid. Be careful or you’ll knock it over by mistake.”

Boyfriend: *slurring* “I’ll—” *hiccups* “I’ll be careful. I’m very careful. I can see the bottle. There’s my bottle.”

Me: “No! I meant my bottle. Your bottle is on the window sill.”

Boyfriend: “Window sssill.”

Me: “Yes… But my bottle is next to the bed, without a lid. Mind that you don’t knock it over.”

Boyfriend: “I… I would never!”

(I go to brush my teeth, only to hear an ominous thump a few moments later, followed by the unmistakable sound of water rapidly pouring over the floor.)



Just Pooping Out Those Compliments

| Gothenburg, Sweden | Boyfriend/Girlfriend

(I have just received my degree certificate in the mail and have taken a just-home-from-work-messy selfie with it. I am also Scandinavianly pale as a sheet.)

Me: “I’m even going to post it on Facebook, even though I look like poop.”

Boyfriend: “Nah, poop is brown.”

Me: *shocked*

Boyfriend: “And you’re much prettier than poop.”


Until Undeath Do Us Part, Part 70

| Portland, OR, USA | Boyfriend/Girlfriend, Zombies

(My boyfriend and I are chatting in bed before going to sleep. I hate the whole zombie apocalypse culture, and can’t stand the “what would you do if I got turned into a zombie?” stories. My boyfriend has just told me he loves zombie apocalypse stuff.)

Boyfriend: “So, what would you do if I got turned into a zombie?”

Me: *instantly* “I’d bludgeon you to death with the nearest hard object. Shut up.”

Boyfriend: “Oh…” *sounds disappointed*

Me: “Okay, fine. I give in. What would you do if I got turned into a zombie?”

Boyfriend: “I’d bludgeon you.”

Me: “With what?”

Boyfriend: “With my penis!”

Me: “You would have to be hard in order to bludgeon me with that. So you’re saying you’d be aroused by zombie me?”

Boyfriend: “Oh, absolutely! Dead vaginas are the best. Mmmmm.”

Me: “You’re disgusting. This is so going on the Internet.”

Until Undeath Do Us Part, Part 68
Until Undeath Do Us Part, Part 67
Until Undeath Do Us Part, Part 66


Kindness On Delivery

| PA, USA | Boyfriend/Girlfriend, Gifts

(My boyfriend receives a package in the mail, so I go pick it up for him.)

Me: “So, what’s in this?”

Boyfriend: “I don’t know. Open it.”

Me: “You never let me open packages for you. Something’s up. What’s in this?”

Boyfriend: “I don’t know. I’m letting you open this out of the kindness of my heart.”

Me: “You and ‘the kindness of your heart’ don’t normally mix, Mr. Snarky Pants.”

(I go ahead and open the package, and it’s a hairdryer I wanted after my old one broke.)

Me: “Aww, love, thank you!”

Boyfriend: “Me and the kindness of my heart don’t mix my a**!”