Me: I want to go to that concert at the Domes.
SH: But I don't feel like it. I'm despondent.
Me: I don't care. We've been talking about this for three weeks.
SH: But I can't.
SH: I'll have to take a shower.
Me: Uh huh.
SH: And shave.
SH: And get dressed.
Me: Something that most people manage to do every single day.
SH: And then we have to pay to get in.
Me: Six dollars a person.
SH: And then there's beer.
Me: Wait. Are you citing the cost of beer as a reason not to do something?
Me: But --
SH: I can't go and not drink a beer.
Me: I wouldn't expect you to.
SH: So that's like twenty dollars!
Me: I think we can afford it.
Later, at the show, a little girl comes up to SH, tugs his pants, and asks, "Are you my daddy?"
My jaw drops. I start to snap, "Of course he isn't!" but then I think, Well, maybe he is. You never know.
Then I think, You jerk! How could you?
Then I think, But she's a cute girl.
Then I think, Wait! This has to be a joke!
SH's friend Pam, whom I have met only a few times, approaches, laughing. "Good job, sweetie!" she said as she patted her daughter's head.
"You had me worried!" I say.
Pam laughs again. Then she buys SH a beer. I tell her that he was complaining about not wanting to come and had cited the expense of beer as a reason. She slaps his shoulder and says, "You can't even use that excuse now."