Picture it: Sizzle’s apartment. 8am on Sunday morning. Over breakfast. . .
Me: I had a dream last night that we were going to an outdoor concert but you forgot the tickets and the money so I sat on a blanket waiting, pissed off at you.
Him: Hmm, maybe I was trying to make it up to you in my dream?
Me: Really? What was your dream?
Him: I was doing you in a bank office.
Me: THAT is how you “make it up to me”?
Him: What?! You seemed into it at the time. (Wink)
Me: (Eye roll. Heavy sigh.)
Me: I can’t believe you just said you were “doing” me. (Snort)