Me: What do you think about this shirt?
Cinlach (turning his chair around from the computer): What the hell is that?
Me (eyes wide as saucers and partially waiting for him to say he’s kidding): …
Cinlach: No, I mean what’s this? (points to the band of gathered pleats two-thirds of the way down the front of the shirt)
Me (still shocked by his initial reaction): I… I don’t know. I just thought it was different.
Cinlach: Oh it’s different alright.
About a half-hour later…
Me: Will you take this glass to the kitchen for me?
I try to quickly gulp down the rest of the beverage as Cinlach begins making gestures that I’m taking too long.
Me (pressing the frosty glass of ice against his bare belly): Thanks.
Cinlach (after shrieking like a schoolgirl): Bitch!