These are the text messages that I recently sent to my wife Rachelle:<\/p>\n
*****************************************<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: No, I haven’t heard back from Nancy.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Well, I can’t think of any reason why she wouldn’t want to do it. It’s an awesome idea!<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: She owns a cheese shop, so me setting up a grilled cheese booth in there is a no-brainer! <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: It’s win\/win, baby!<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Well, I thought I’d pick up one of those Instant Pot things and cook them in there. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Oh.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Really?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: The Instant Pot can’t make grilled cheese sandwiches?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Why isn’t that on their advertising?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Well, that sucks. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Thought it could do practically everything.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Yeah, I guess I did kind of imagine it like a robot. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/a><\/p>\n Me: No, not like that.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: A benevolent robot, one that serves man, AND is capable of making a grilled cheese sandwich. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Well, if it can’t make a damn sandwich, why the hell was it named Time Magazine’s Person of the year??<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Oh, I thought it was.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: The Silence Breakers were?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: I don’t know who they are.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Oh.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/a><\/p>\n Me: Yes, they are very brave women. #TimesUp<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: I am an ally.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Look, we’ve been through this before. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Feminism is many things, many voices–and my collection of vintage Raquel Welch memorabilia doesn’t make me a \u201cBad Feminist.\u201d<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/a>\u00a0 \u00a0<\/a><\/p>\n Me: It makes me an ally.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: No, not a creep, an ally. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Well, let me tell you, I’d be delighted if she exploited me back. <\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: I really would.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Oh, don’t act so innocent!<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: You know you want to be exploited by Colin Farrell.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: I saw how many times you watched that Miami Vice movie, and I saw the way your eyes got all weird and intense whenever that greasy Crockett came on screen!<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/a><\/p>\n Me: I can’t believe you just wrote that!<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: You’ve stopped going to your low carb support group, haven’t you?<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: You were very high in agreeability when you were eating carbs.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: Now, not so much.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Me: The Rachelle Maynard I know (and love!) would never have said something like that to me if she was properly managing her carb withdrawal.<\/span><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n