“I don’t know . . . What do men call their girlfriends? Sugar?”
“Sugar. You want to be called sugar.”
“No, not sugar. Something else, like . . .”
“Sugar.”
“Not sugar. Honey? No. Not honey. Muffin? No.” He looks exasperated with me.
“Jesus Christ. What’s next? Eggs? Preheat oven to two fifty? Baking soda, I’m home!”
— Jul 21, 2026 01:31PM
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