It’s a lazy Sunday morning and she has decided to break her rule of not cooking on weekends. He is sitting patiently on the kitchen counter, waiting for the result of the storm she appears to be cooking up when something sticking out from between the folds of the newspaper catches his eye.
Snatching it up, he proclaims, “Oh look! It’s one of those advertisements of a perfume called romance with a quiz to check your love quotient.”
“Throw it away”, she murmurs, clearly disinterested in such tomfoolery while squinting at the frying pan, willing the stuff inside to change colour like it should have around ten minutes ago.
“Ah, let’s see! How would you express/profess your love to your significant other?” He asks, clearly enjoying himself.
“C’mon! What made you ask me out all those years ago? Was it my dynamic personality or my irresistible charm?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows for extra effect.
Finally, she turns around. “Let me recall, I think it was the allure of your Magnetic obliviousness to flirtation and your endearing cluelessness that required me to ask you out twice, even though you said yes the first time, just because you didn’t understand what it entailed. How’s that for an answer?” She smirks.
Not one to give up, he continues undeterred, “Tell me, what would you do when someone made you catch your breath or made your heart skip a beat? What would you do about those butterflies fluttering in your stomach, eh?”
“Digest them”, she deadpans.
Bursting out laughing, he cannot help but move towards his wife.
Needless to say, the questionnaire soon finds its rightful place in the trashcan right next to unrecognisable charred pieces of what could have been edible food.
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