I am about to tell you a sweet story about my man. If you are young and idealistic, you won’t find it so sweet, you will likely think it’s depressing that my bar is so pathetically low. If you are an old bag like me who’s been cheated on a couple of times, most notably by a seriously adulterous husband who left her with faulty instincts when it comes to my first boyfriend since the divorce, you might find your cold shrivelled heart expand just a bit.

So throughout most of my relationship with Felix Unger, I have often been an anxious mess. I have always feared his emotional distance at times was because he might have someone else, even though, when I push it, it’s always the same issue — really into you, really want kids, know we’ll have to break up at some point, trying to protect myself from the inevitable pain and misery of that breakup, trying to keep things light and breezy.

But anyway, when we first started banging, Felix had a cute little painted tin box filled with condoms next to his bed. And then a month or two after we started banging, we both were griping about condoms and I said I was fine to do without them but you know, I need to know that we are either exclusive or if we bang other people, we use condoms so as not to infect one another. He gave me an odd look, but readily agreed.

So for the first month or so after that conversation, the box remained. Once I slipped a note in it that read: YOU CHEATING BASTARD.

But I told him I did something mischievious in his room and he figured it out immediately and laughed and laughed.

Anyway, so I stayed at his place this weekend and I noticed the condom box was gone.

And I said:  “Where’s your cute little condom box?”

He replied: “I put it away months ago.”

I said: “You did? Why?”

He looked at me in confusion. “Because we don’t use condoms, silly.”

I almost burst into tears. Instead, I turned my head and said: “Well, that’s reassuring.” And he came up behind me, gave me a big hug and said, lovingly: “You are insane.”

It’s nice that we both find one another insane, and consider it adorable.

p.s. Rest assured, we later quarrelled bitterly about Where The Wild Things Are. I loved it, he hated it.