Cuz you know how it is…
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That moment of panic when he comes home with lipstick on his collar, and the wave of relief when it turns out to just be the blood of a squealer.
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The mystery of how he’s always able to have a lit cigar in his mouth, even when he’s sleeping or in the shower.
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You beg him for months to see that new rom-com in theaters, but once he finally says yes, he gets sentenced to five years in prison.
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He makes you hide a flask in your garter when you go out, since he doesn’t believe restaurants can legally serve alcohol.
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When you wear a tight-fitting dress, and he shouts out, “Boy oh boy, get a load of them gams!”
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The weekly ritual of bae hiding in the closet while you lie to the police about his whereabouts.
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How grumpy he gets when you tell him that your first-born is a girl, and not a boy like you promised.
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That time you gave him an iPhone for his birthday, and he just stared at it and said, “I do not know what this is.”
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Right as you’re about to go shopping, your ride gets blown up by a car bomb.
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The judgmental looks you get from so-called “friends” who question why you’re dating someone born in the nineteenth century.
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Having to put up with bloody murders of rival mob bosses on every religious holiday (really, Gino, can’t we have one Pentecost without the garrote wire?).
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How, despite all the little problems and literal impossibility of your relationship, you love him no matter what.
The Danopticon 