Mr. is watching The Bachelorette. I am trying not to notice that it’s on. The eponymous young lady (whatever her name is) is having a romantic “overnight” with one of the suitors (don’t ask me which one, I don’t know that either.) He avers in voice over just how much he’s been looking forward to spending time alone with her. They repair to the bed, where he basically climbs on top of her as they make out. The camera zooms in obligingly.
Mr turns to me and says,
Yeah, I know I always feel real romantic with a camera stuck up my ass.
Aaah, my lover, the poet.