It's Not Me, It's You
(continued)
NO. 61 You spent your vacation fund on his-and-hers Scientology audits
51. You have a pool boy, but no pool.
52. Lately, your pet name has been "Donkey Breath Ass Face."
53. Your response to "Does this skirt make me look fat?" is "No, your giant ass makes you look fat."
54. When the clock strikes 12 on New Year's Eve, he shakes your hand.
55. Maury Povich's people keep wooing you with gift baskets.
56. She makes vague, ominous remarks like, "I'm leaving for my sister's house on Tuesday and never coming back."
57. Out of nowhere, the cashier at the supermarket says, "Don't worry, five inches is almost average."
58. You've awoken each other's bi-curiosity.
59. After every argument, he says, "I wouldn't have to put up with this if we were in the Taliban."
60. His pet name for you is "Chief."
61. You spent your vacation fund on his-and-hers Scientology audits.
62. Last time you had sex, you ejaculated tears.
63. The only spooning you've done lately is ice cream into your face.
64. Although not a special occasion, you sometimes call just to whisper, "You've stolen my youth."
65. You make love through a hole in a sheet; are not Hasidic Jews.
66. Your safe word is "fuck you."
67. Your nightly sex has earned pity applause from the neighborhood peeping tom.
68. You're afraid of Virginia Woolf.
69. For some reason, she no longer wants to be saved from her pimp.
70. You sold your hair to buy him a watch fob; he sold your iPod to buy a case of Jägermeister.
71. You've been nostalgic lately for your childhood in the killing fields of Cambodia.
72. Even your mutual orgasms have become sarcastic.
73. She's a mannequin, and you're the only one who's ever seen her come to life.
74. Two years in, you've yet to meet his conjoined twin.
75. Her dogs hate you, as do her cats, salamanders, macaws, ferrets, cousins, friends, and hermit crabs.
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