This Summer marks the 20th year I’ve spent with my big man.

I have not regretted a single day of the past 20 years.

HAHAHHAHAHA. THAT is a motherfucking lie. I’ve regretted like at least a dozen of them. Or 87 of them.

Still, a month or so of days aside, I have a lot of fun with this man. We mostly like the same things and we can hang truckloads of shit on each other and laugh about it while it’s happening.

For the record, he is way more sensitive than I am.

Anyway, we have taken pillow talk to a level that you couples who have been together only a few short years or so will not understand until you’ve put your time in. Seriously, it takes longevity to reach this level of intimate communication.

I didn’t MEAN to wait until Randy was nearly asleep to share. Sharing is important in a marriage, and asleep or not, we are devoted enough to each other to put our personal needs aside and really LISTEN.

Me, contemplating taking a benedryl: “I hope I have better dreams tonight”.

Randy, who was nearly asleep: “garble garble zzzzzz”.

Me, not wanting to get up to get the benedryl: ” I dreamed I was William H. Macy last night. It was horrible. I was a fat version of William H. Macy and I murdered people. I was soaked in blood”.

Randy, fucking feigning sleep if you ask me: <crickets>

Me, wondering if I should be concerned about my need for antihistimines to fall asleep: “Would you still have sex with me if I looked like William H. Macy”?

Randy, a little more awake:”Probably not”.

Me, wondering if I could get him to get me a benedryl: “You would’nt”?

Randy, trying to not talk through gritted teeth: “He’s an ugly little fucker and I never would have forgiven you for fleeing the interview”.

Me, pleased that the communication was flowing so freely:” So now I’m William H. Macy and you’re Francis McDormand”?

Randy, turning his back to me: “Don’t. Just stop. It’s time to sleep”.

Me, ignoring Randy’s needs: “What if I put a bag over my head? Then would you have sex with me if I looked like William H. Macy”?

Randy, sighing deeply like the old man he is: “I was almost asleep. If you wake me up again for something stupid I am going to ass fuck you at 2:00 AM”.

I swear I was going to let him sleep. I really was, but then I started thinking about turning into William H. Macy and it raised a lot of questions. I needed answers.

Me, lightly caressing my beloved’s shoulder: “Randy..if you are married in a state where same sex marriage is not legal and get a gender reassignment, is your marriage still legal? Like if I got a gender reassignment and had cosmetic surgery to look like William H. Macy, would our marriage be void”?

Randy, not even bothering to turn over:” Do you remember what I said would happen at 2:00 am if you don’t stop waking me up”?

Me, taking the high road.: “We never talk anymore”.

Randy: “Good night, Bill”.

Me: “Why are you calling me Bill. I don’t think I’d call myself Bill if I got a gender reassignment”.

Randy: “Bill. You know..William H Macy”.

And then I was able to drift off to sleep comforted in the knowledge that Randy I successfully communicated and therefore made our relationship stronger. This is what I am talking about. You need to reach a level of maturity in your relationship to delve that deep.

There were no 2:00 AM incidents and I dreamed about whales and sharks and turtles and murky green water..which is a recurring dream that tends to be an anxiety dream..but still..it was better than being a swollen, homicidal William H. Macy.

Or am I doing pillow talk wrong?

I got my own benedryl, by the way.