“Thank you for thinking of me, baby.” I stared at the t-shirt in my hands. Seriously? The boyfriend! goes to Las Vegas and this is what I get? It’s the thought that counts, it’s the thought that counts, it’s the thought that counts…

“It’s the Borg! From Star Trek!” He looks at me excitedly…like a puppy waiting for its positive reinforcement.

“Ohhhh, THAT’S who that character is! She’s much cuter as a character,” I run my fingers over the animated Borg on the t-shirt, “Like Peak-A-Choo or one of those cute Japanese characters.” I’m impressed with myself and the fact that I knew who Peak-A-Choo was.

“The Borg IS NOT Peak-A-Choo! You can never compare those two things ever. Again. Or you will be single.”

Now, I know when to choose my battles. Star Trek is what used to be Sean’s mistress…like his dirty little secret. He was embarrassed of her–afraid of what the implications were of obsessing over something so stereotypically geeky. But, you know what, honey? You ARE geeky. And it’s one of the many things I love about you.

And in the past couple of years or so, he finally started to truly own the fact that his dirty little mistress…those slutty Star Fleet Officers…make him a nerd. And I have accepted the fact that I am in an open relationship. Me, Sean…and Captain Picard.

So, this shirt said a lot while saying nothing at all. I accepted graciously, happy that he had thought of me in the city where prostitution is legal, and knowing that it would most likely never see the light of day. It would most likely become part of my pajamas…

However, this weekend at Comic Con……………..

I had a reason to where it with pride. And it was a hit, folks. It was a hit.

For a year now, Sean has been trying to get me to drink out of his ugly ass Star Trek mugs. I despise Star Trek…I’m always competing with that stupid show for Sean’s affection. (kidding) But I do hate the show. It’s so boring and will instantly put me to sleep with all of its monotone talking and white noise in the background.

So, the week we were moving, we realized that we needed to keep a few plates, glasses and silverware so that we could…oh, you know…survive for the week. And Sean–that punk–ONLY kept his Star Trek mugs. I tried everything to avoid using them. Cupping my hand under the faucet to sip water that way…but it seemed inevitable. I was going to have to drink from the horrid Star Trek mugs. And just as I was pulling a mug out of the cupboard to pour myself a glass of milk…I saw a package sitting on my counter from Sean’s cousin, Jeannie (who frequents this site a lot…HI JEANNIE!) And inside this care package was not only delicious home-made biscotti…but THIS MUG she bought for us in the Bahamas:

I drank from that thing every single day for a week…Jeannie, you are forever on my good list.