When I say: "Are you going to go out and get a girlfriend who isn't as tired and cranky and bitchy as me and who brushes her hair every day and who doesn't looks like she's four months pregnant and doesn't need to lose
seven ten fifteen pounds and whose boobs don't look like deflated balloons and who doesn't have gray hair and fucking wrinkles?"
He says: "Of course not. I love you and you are beautiful and hot and are the only woman I could ever want."
But when he says: "Are you going to have an affair with that fireman who sort of maybe almost flirted with you a little bit at the grocery store last week?"
I say: "Oh my hell yes, absolutely, no doubt about it. Hey, what time are you coming home from work tomorrow? Because I'm having my new fireman boyfriend over and he hates it when you get home early and he has to find his pants and jump out the back window."