(My fiancé has bought my Christmas present, and can’t resist giving me a hint.)

Fiancé: “You’ll take it everywhere, and everyone will want to use it.”

Me: *joking* “Is it a handkerchief?”

Fiancé: “No.”

Me: “Is it a lighter?”

Fiancé: *looks shifty* “No…”

Me: “Is it the Zippo we saw with the American flag on it?”

Fiancé: “D*** it.” *goes into the other room, comes back, and hands me the lighter with a crestfallen and annoyed look on this face* “Now I have to think of a new present.”

(There have been no more guessing games or hints about presents. Also, I’m not allowed to have lighter fluid for it until after Christmas!)

(My fiancé, his grandmother, and I go on a trip to the nearby city for some errands and end up in a well-known pizza place. After placing our order, my fiancé’s grandmother waits about ten minutes and then starts complaining.)

Grandma: “What is taking them so long?”

Fiancé: “Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Grandma: “Look at all these people! We should have just ordered like them and got the buffet.”

Fiancé: “You wanted leftovers to take home, Grandma.”

(At this point a waitress, not our waitress, walks by.)

Grandma: “Excuse me! I said, ‘Excuse me!’”

Other Waitress: “Yes?”

Me: “She’s not our waitress, [Grandma].”

Grandma: “Do you know how much longer for our food? If it’s not ready yet, I want the order cancelled.”

Me: “She’s not our waitress; she wouldn’t know about our order.”

Other Waitress: “I’m not sure, ma’am. I can certainly have a look.”

(The other waitress leaves and literally as she walks away, our waitress brings our food. There has been a total wait time of 20 minutes for two pizzas and a calzone.)

Grandma: “Fin—”

Me: *cutting her off* “Those look amazing! Thank you so much.”

(I get home from a friend’s house with my fiancé after watching the New Year’s fireworks. I’m not one for fireworks, but you could see them from the house.)

Me: *to fiancé* “Well, I’ll say it again, the same as I’ve said it every year: they’re not as good as Gandalf’s.”

(He just smiled and shook his head. Happy New Year’s!)

(I’m trying to prepare a simple meal that involves putting frozen food on baking trays, which I line with aluminium foil. My fiancé comes into the kitchen to “help.” He comes up behind me and threads his arms through mine which results in my elbows being forced against my side, making it very hard to use my arms for anything. I am now straining to put a piece of foil over the baking tray as my arms are held back.)

Fiancé: *while laughing at my attempts* “To understand the T-Rex, you must become the T-Rex.”

Me: *laughing while eventually succeeding in my task despite the handicap*

(My fiancé and I have been living together for five years when he proposes and I accept. Oddly enough, several people assume too much.)

Them: “Are you pregnant? When are you due?”

Me: “I’m not pregnant. They know what causes that, now.”