When Mars Serves Venus.

It's going okay, so far. This shift in cultural norms; where he serves me dinner and I sit with my feet propped up on the coffee table. Or where he washes and dries the clothes and I say things like, "Seriously? You dried my brand new shirt. Well, give it to Remi - it's her size now."

It's going okay.

I mean it's not stellar. For instance, one night he made me some mashed potatoes and then took a phone call from his buddy before he served them to me. So when he finally slopped them down on the plate they were ice cold. I complained. The next night I had to wrap my plate in a towel it was so hot. Point taken.

But the man is good, I will admit that. He brings me Chips Ahoy when I need 'em, Vicodin when I'm hurtin', a People magazine when I'm cryin'. My mom is right, I could have done much much worse.

And even though he came home last night and had bought me a pretty candle to smell up my room and even though the scent was called High Maintenance....I love him just the same.

Here's hoping you spend your weekend with someone half this cute.