I hauled your ass back to my apartment and made you mine. Eventually we got married, something about you wanting babies to play in leaf piles. They’re asleep upstairs while my accomplished wife celebrates her big brain with her snobby friends. I don’t like many of them, myself, but I have plenty of snobby friends you don’t like, too.” “Oh, well, that seems fair, then.” He nods. “It works out. Then, at the end of the day, we can both take off our public faces, shake off our snobby colleagues, and reconnect with what’s real. Every night, I curl up with a woman who knows me and likes me anyway,
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