So last night, I was feeling particularly lovey-dovey-fuzzy while Coleman and I were watching tv, so I took it upon myself to tell him a few things that I liked about him. Things like, “You’re funny”, “Thanks for doing the laundry today”, “I’m thankful that you work so hard to provide for us”, etc.
When I was done listing a few gushy things like that, I smiled and cuddled up against Coleman’s shoulder. I guess he felt obligated to say a few nice things about me, too, as evidenced by the fact that he started his sentence with a very long “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” as he tried to think of something to say in return.
“Oh boy!” I thought to myself. “I wonder what nice things he’ll say about me? We are so in love. What a perfect couple! Look at us, snuggling here, watching tv, saying nice things about each other. Could my marriage be any more perfect?!”
“Uhhhhhhhhh… I don’t like the bird houses that you put in the living room as a decoration, but I do like the plants you bought for that table,” Coleman started, pointing at the plants I bought two years ago.
“I liked that one time when you dressed like a homeless woman, but you didn’t realize it,” he continued.
“What?!” I asked, surprised. I don’t remember that time.
“And that one time in college when you tried wearing your hair that new way, and I asked you if a special ed kid styled it. That was funny! And the time–”
“Ok,” I interrupted. “That’s enough. Thanks, though.”
Yes. The perfect marriage, indeed.
At least we can laugh at each other, right?