Separated at birth. Obviously.

Me: I will only go to Branson if we can see Dolly Parton.

My Guy: She’s not usually there.

Me: Well, nevermind then.

My Guy, thinking, but smartly not verbally expressing: You are insane.

Me: Have you ever seen 9 to 5?
My Guy: I don’t think so.

Me: It’s a fantastic movie! She’s so funny!

My Guy: Is that the one where she dresses like a man?

Me, thinking but also verbally expressing: What? No! You’re insane!

My Guy: Oh, right. That’s Yentl.
Me, dead on floor from laughter-induced heart attack: Noooooo!

My Guy: Oh, right.

Me: Bwah ha ha!

My Guy: I’m your husband! You’re so lucky! Jesus decrees that you love me even though I get my 80s movies confused!

Me: How could you confuse Dolly Parton and Barbra Streisand?

My Guy: I DON’T KNOW!

Me: Well, you’re obviously straight.

And … scene!