Me: “Do you still have your creamy center?”
BF: “No, my inner child ate it.”
Me: “Really? If he still has it, then you technically you do, too.”
BF: “Who says my inner child is a boy? Maybe it’s a girl.”
Me: “Really? Why do you say that?”
BF: “I don’t know, it’s a possibility. My inner child could be a gay man for all I know.”
Me: “Hmmmm, well. I don’t want to know if that’s the case. Besides, that’s species-ist of you. Your inner child could be an aardvark.”
BF: “Or a gerbil. My inner child eats its young.”
Me: “Okay, too much information!”
