Ron and I have come to the conclusion that we are officially too odd for any other partners. We are ruined (pronounced "rooned") for anyone but each other.
We have a culture of sorts, which includes "secret" handshake/dance with the following lyrics:
We create elaborate stories for all things LaFleur, such as Fridge LaFleur (who loves $100 bills, but hates mustard) or the artist formerly known as Sam LaFleur (who had a wildly successful button business that catered to gay men's underpants accessories).
I guess this is what happens when you've been together long enough... We love the same things (fish tacos, sharks, dinner in bed), hate the same things (snow, ear wax, pumping gas), and laugh at the same things, which generally make no sense (see Fridge LaFleur and the artist formerly known as Sam LaFleur). He doesn't protest my love of the dead (literally), or inability to wear pants at night (not in a weird way), my inherent selfishness, or incessant need for water. And in turn I don't scoff at his need to excessively worry, the fact that his ears are WAY too small for his body, or his unusual claim to hate his left foot (WTF?).
Its true, we are ruined.