He responded with, "Was Santa good to you this year?" and a wink. I felt dirty. I felt like Ray Liotta's other woman in GoodFellas when his crazy wife comes to the apartment he's put her up in and is hysterically smashing all the intercom buttons for the building and screaming, "THERE'S A WHORE-UH LIVING IN APARTMENT 2-R! WHORE IN 2-R!"
Meanwhile the guy I'm actually dating irritates the s out of me by constantly asking me to explain something I obviously said in jest over a text and replied to the fact that I got shoes for Christmas with a cringe-inducing, "Ooh, what do your feet look like anyway?" My feet? "I'm an amputee," I entered and flung my phone across the living room in disgust. When I finally retrieved my phone, I then had to explain to him that I am not actually an amputee.