He's A Guy. And That's Not Changing.
him: "I want to go see Iron Man."
me: "You've been saying that since Mother's Day."
him: "I'm want to go tonight--to the last showing."
me: "So go."
him: "You'll think I'm a loser."
me: "Because you're going alone? Aww, you're so cute. Call someone to go with you. I didn't know guys cared about stuff like that."
him: "No, that's not why. I don't care about that. You'll hate me because I'm your baby-helping slave. And if I go, I won't be here to help you."
me: [howling with laughter] "Did you just say baby-helping slave?"
me: "DUDE! I don't think of you like that!"
him: [shrugs & chuckles but keeps watching the Laker game]
me: "I guess I do think of you as one of my girlfriends. I mean, you are my best friend. "
him: [in horrified disgust] "I am not one of your girlfriends. I AM A GUY."
Easy, Tarzan. You know I love it when you beat your chest. But we have five children already.