(I wrote this last week and left it laying around in the drafts folder. Right after I wrote it, kk asked about how hard it's been for me to give up alcohol. This, kk, is how hard it's been.)
A couple of weeks ago, we went out to dinner with kat's lil bro and his girlfriend, Miss B. The waiter came to take our order and described the drink special of the night, which was something like a "white chocolate raspberry martini with cocoa on the rim" but I was too busy wiping the drool off my chin to pay attention. I don't even like raspberry flavor, but it sounded so heavenly, I made Miss B promise that, if she ordered it, she would let me smell it. And she was nice enough to do just that. And nice enough to pretend not to notice when I grabbed it halfway through the meal and smelled it again.
When we went out to dinner last week, I pointed out a woman at a nearby table who had a huge margarita that looked like it was absolutely delicious. I asked the Pretend Husband if he thought she would let me smell it and he yelled at me. Apparently, people will think it's "weird" if I ask to smell their drinks and he wouldn't let me do it. Still, when his martini arrived, he slid it across the table for me to take a sniff. Now that's love.