But now you’re thinking Honey’s perfect and why aren’t we together and probably it’s my fault, and you’re right about all of it, more or less. If I were going to summarize it, I’d tell you that I can’t be with a person who, in the middle of the worst fight ever, leaves me weeping in the bed to take a shower, where I hear him joyfully singing “No Woman, No Cry.” “Were you singing in the shower?” I’d said when he came cheerfully back into the room with a Q-tip in each ear, and he’d scrunched up his nose, said, “Oof. Was I?” “Do you have any actual human feelings?” I’d asked, and he hadn’t
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