Ultimately, they find out everything:

How you chew, how you sip, how you hum, how you dance. How you smell at every point in the day, how you are on the phone with your mother, the fact that many of your friends are shallow, that you always have to sit on the aisle, how you never really listen, how whiny you get when you travel, how you’re not gracious to her friends when they call, how certain game shows make you really really happy, how cranky you get because you’re too stupid to remember to eat, how you manage to get confrontational only when it’s with the absolute wrong person to be yelling at, how you don’t like the way you look in any picture you’ve taken since 1974, how you’re unable to get off the phone when you’re runnng late because you don’t have the ability to say, ‘This isn’t a good time; can I call you back?’ How you have to lick certain fruits before actually eating them, how you have no ability to save receipts—all these things, and they still want to sign on. They still like you.

This feels good. For about a minute.

But the next thought is, ‘Wait a second, why is she being so understanding? If this stuff doesn’t faze her, her stuff must be even worse…Oh God—what don’t I know?’

And every day, bit by bit, you find out.

Paul Reiser and his astute relationship observations in his aptly titled book, Couplehood. It’s one of my favorites. (via yellowonesdontstop)

Love this.

(via lizlemon)

*ding*

(via lizlemon)