The reason we’re made for each other
“So I’m going to tell you something that is going to kill my mystique.”
“What?”
“I’m wearing your deodorant.”
“Oh. My. God. I’m wearing yours!”
“What?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t find mine, and yours was there on my desk.”
“Yours was on my nightstand!”
“I thought you were going to call me out for smelling like a man.”
“Well I was pretty excited because your deodorant is black-dress friendly. No streaks here.”
Happy Anniversary, baby. I love you. Here’s to the next year.