For my bridal shower a while back, a friend got me a gift certificate to Journelle, a high-end lingerie shop that sells incredibly sexy pieces. Think this:
Last night I realized I still hadn’t used the gift card, so needless to say Eric was excited to hop onto the website with me and peruse their merchandise.
I bought these:
SIDE POCKETS!!!! 
There is an old cantankerous man who lives in our building, and every time he walks into the elevator and sees me on my phone (which is always), he makes a snide comment about it. Normally I just smile awkwardly and sort of ignore, but today I decided to defend myself.
Old man: “Those things are ruining people. Nobody talks to each other anymore.”
Me: “Yes, you always say that to me.”
Old man: “Well, it’s true. How’s anyone supposed to meet if they’re always looking at their phone?”
Me: “Actually, I met my husband on my phone.”
Old man: “You mean you were talking on the phone when you met him?”
Me: “No, I literally found him BECAUSE OF my phone. I was in an elevator like this one, and instead of talking to people around me, I was scrolling through a dating app. I came across his profile, read it, and I liked it, so I connected with him and we started talking.”
Old man: “I see…”
Me: “Right, so, if I hadn’t been looking at my phone, if I had been talking to people around me instead, as you always say I should be doing, then I wouldn’t have found my husband.”
Old man (long pause): “Well, young lady, I guess that’s a good point.”
Me (smiling, resisting the urge to literally pat myself on the back): “Thank you.”
(We both step out of the elevator and into the lobby)
Doorman: “Hey there, Eddie!”
Old man: “The whole world’s gone to shit. This girl met her husband INSIDE A PHONE! Like a ROBOT!”
Eric: “So I was just with an older woman in the laundry room and she sees me putting clothes in the dryer and she’s like ‘What is this– a man doing the laundry? Really?’ And I was like ‘Yeah, of course!’ and she’s like ‘Really? Wow. Your wife doesn’t do the laundry?’ and I was like ‘Well, my wife and I split the chore 50/50– she does all the folding, so I do the washing and drying part’ and the woman was like ‘Oh my goodness, your wife is SO lucky!'”
Me, throughout this entire story: 
I just spotted Eric’s wedding ring on the nightstand…
Love is screaming “I WATCH FOOTBALL WITH YOU ALL SEASON!!!!!” while you crank the volume on The Bachelorette 3-hour season finale as he wildly protests.
Watching “The Bachelorette”…
Eric: “Wait, so…at the end of this, the bachelorette proposes to the guy?”
Me: “No. The guy proposes.”
Eric: “So she chooses the guy who then has to propose to her?”
Me: “Yeah.”
Eric: <confused>
Me: “Like what I’m doing.”
(pause)
Eric: “Ok yeah I get it now.”
“No. It’s too hot.”
— Eric, when, during a particularly emotional moment in my friend’s wedding ceremony, I went to hold his hand.
I’ve always been one to have pretty vivid dreams, and my therapist tells me that when this happens, in order to interpret them I should focus on the FEELING I had in the dream. The actual characters, context, and events of the dream are usually not relevant and shouldn’t be over-analyzed. It’s the emotion during the dream that you should focus on, as it’s likely an emotion you are trying to suppress in your waking life.
I’ve shared this wisdom with Eric, so we now make it a habit to discuss these vivid dreams when I have them (Side-note: We do NOT to make it a habit to discuss Eric’s dreams, as Eric is quite possibly the WORST summarizer of dreams on the planet. He is an exceptional storyteller in general, but when it comes to his dreams, he suddenly has the verbal capabilities of Forrest Gump. It will take him 15 minutes to explain a dream that could not have possibly lasted longer than 7 seconds. The benefit of discussing/interpreting his dream does not outweigh the amount of life minutes lost waiting for him to get to the point, so I generally refuse to participate and just tiptoe slowly out the room as he’s talking, which, 50% of the time, he does not even notice.)
This morning’s discussion…
Me: “I had a dream that you proposed. But the ring was a HUGE purple quartz rock. Literally a rock, in its rock form. And the ring part was flexible plastic, like the kind of ring you win at an arcade, that can fit on any sized finger. It literally looked like this, sitting upon a yellow plastic ring:
And my sister was in the background yelling ‘I helped pick it out!’ which was just baffling to me, especially considering how nice her ring is, and how impossibly picky she is about jewelry. And you were just sitting there with a shit-eating grin on your face, so proud of your choice, particularly the flexible plastic base, because, as you put it, ‘This way it will always fit, even if you get fatter!'”
Eric: “And how did that make you FEEL?”
(Pause as I contemplate the baseline emotion of the dream)
Me: “It made me feel like you’re a fucking idiot.”
Eric: “Sounds about right. Analysis complete!”
Me (whining): “Errrrrric….”
Eric: “What?”
Me (stealing his coffee and drinking it): “I have a headache.”
Eric: <on his phone, likely trying to tune me out>
Me (drinking more of his coffee): “I said I have a headache! Are you listening?”
Eric: <mumbled, what-do-you-want-me-to-do-about-it response>
Me: “BUT YOU TOLD ME THIS IS YOUR PARADISE!!!!!!!”
Pretty sure this no longer applies.
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