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" The thing I like the most about my relationship with Ben is how much we laugh together. He&amp;#039;s funny, and he brings out my funny. The flip side is that I don&amp;#039;t always know where the joke ends.  It started out innocently enough. We met downstairs after work and started talking about what we wanted for dinner. &amp;quot;Let&amp;#039;s get sushi,&amp;quot; Ben said. &amp;quot;Eh, I&amp;#039;m not in the mood for sushi,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;What about Italian?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;We&amp;#039;re going to get fat if we keep eating Italian,&amp;quot; he said. &amp;quot;We&amp;#039;ll work it off later,&amp;quot; I said, giving him a hip bump and a suggestive wink. &amp;quot;You don&amp;#039;t work hard enough to make up for Italian,&amp;quot; he said, winking back. &amp;quot;What are you trying to say?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m trying to say that I do the majority of the work,&amp;quot; he said with a smirk. &amp;quot;Then you shouldn&amp;#039;t have any problem working off your Italian food,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;When are you going to work it off?&amp;quot; he asked. &amp;quot;I don&amp;#039;t need to work anything off,&amp;quot; I said. &amp;quot;Do you think I need to work anything off?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Yeah. You&amp;#039;re kind of a fatty.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Okay. In the span of five minutes, you&amp;#039;ve called me fat and implied that I&amp;#039;m lazy in bed.&amp;quot; Ben rolled his eyes. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m kidding, K. Lighten up.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Well, that wasn&amp;#039;t funny. I hope that isn&amp;#039;t the material you&amp;#039;re going to trot out for Mitchell&amp;#039;s next show, because you&amp;#039;ll bomb.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Oooh, burn.&amp;quot; And the rest of the night was just like that. Light-hearted banter that occasionally moved into mean territory. And I can&amp;#039;t even blame it on Ben, because I was doing it, too. It&amp;#039;s like the joke went too far off the rails, and then we spent the rest of the night one-upping each other. &amp;quot;We&amp;#039;re both being total jerks,&amp;quot; I said when we got back to his place. &amp;quot;I know. It&amp;#039;s fun.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Is it? I think it starts out fun, but the longer it goes on, the less fun it gets.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I think it&amp;#039;s all fun.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Is it still going to be fun when I just lay there the whole time we&amp;#039;re having sex just to prove how much I work the rest of the time?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Totally. I&amp;#039;ll just pretend you&amp;#039;re one of those Real Dolls. I&amp;#039;ve always wondered what it would be like to have sex with one of them.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;And they say romance is dead.&amp;quot; Ladies, let this be a warning to you. This is what dating a comic is like. Or maybe it&amp;#039;s just what dating MY comic is like. I&amp;#039;m not really sure. All I know is that when this whole joking-for-too-long thing happens, I end up feeling uneasy about it. Maybe it&amp;#039;s because there&amp;#039;s a lot of truth in kidding, and I feel like Ben uses it as a way to get things off of his chest without having a real discussion about it. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/sex-love/a8768/bedroom-blog-072810/>