Conversations from Cohabitation

Are you guys watching the Olympics? Ok, we don’t normally get into them. But this year? TOTALLY hooked.

First, if you didn’t watch Women’s Rugby, you haven’t lived. In the words of my friend Mary: 

“This sh*t is bananas!”

Second, my husband and I should not be allowed to watch, well, any television together, really. Separately, we’re decent human beings. Together? We make a terrible human couple who should not be in charge of raising two respectful young ladies.

Last night, while watching men’s synchronized platform diving (as you do), this conversation occurred:

Me: “Wait. His name is Steele Johnson?”
CB: “Yeah…..”

Silence. Listening to commentators for about 5 minutes.

CB: “Is it just me, or are there double entendres everywhere?”
Me: “Oh my God EVERYWHERE. I wasn’t saying anything because I didn’t want to be gross for once. But come ON.”
CB: “Yeah. ‘Rough entry’?”
Me: “Penetrates the water?”
CB: “STEELE JOHNSON?”

Silence. *

Me: “We should be civilian sports announcers for the Olympics. Like, they have these two boring people here telling us all about form. But we can tell whether they’re going to get an 8 or a 9.5 by how much of a splash they make in the water. So who’s really the expert? Plus, you know that we would be speaking to America. No WAY other people haven’t started making inappropriate jokes, too. No WAY.”
CB: “We’d get kicked off of the air in about 4 minutes.”
Me: “But it’d be such a glorious 4 minutes.”

*it’s important to note that, during this conversation, CB made the dirtiest joke I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth and I actually was stopped in my tracks. I cannot repeat it here because, at some point, our daughters will be able to read and should never, ever know that this exists in their father’s terrible brain.

***

While getting into bed last night, we had this conversation. It’s important to understand that CB has slept with only one pillow for approximately four years. I sleep with three pillows and we use two separate blankets because sharing is for kinder sleepers who are not me:

Me: “Remember when we first started dating and we’d share a blanket and you slept with two pillows?”
CB: “Yeah, the good ole’ days.”
Me: “Oh man, it was torture. You didn’t use a fan, or have the windows open, and you’d have the heat on!”
CB, laughing: “Yeah, it’s called winter. Oh man, you’re a piece of work. Like I was doing something odd by having no fan and the windows closed with the heat on in the WINTER.”
Me, laughing.
CB: “You know what was odd? Having snow in my hair when I’d wake up! ‘Gee, why do you have pneumonia again for the second time this month?’ ‘Oh, I started dating this girl and she’s INSANE.”
Me, still laughing: “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you knew exactly who you were marrying, it’s not like I hid it after the first few months.”
CB: “But those first few months you lured me in by making me think you were normal with your siren song: ‘Oh here, have two pillows. Oh here, we can share a blanket.”
Me: “Well that’s your fault. I was never normal. I was just being more polite.”
CB: “So can we go back to when that was one of your priorities? Because the air conditioning is currently set at 60 degrees and I wear a sweatshirt to bed in the middle of the summer.”
Me: “Negative. That ship has sailed.”