Me: Are you awake?
Mark: I'm Mark. No, I'm Mike.
Later I'm still awake when Mark gets up for a potty break. "Did you know you just told me you're Mike?" I ask. Turns out he heard the conversation like this:
Me: Hey Mike.
Mark: I'm Mark. Not Mike.
Since me calling out another man's name in bed at night elicited no more response than a tired correction, I'm thinking he was indeed more or less asleep.
Still later, I'm still not asleep. Sometime after midnight I go down to the kitchen and do some computer work. By the time I tiptoe back upstairs, Mark is awake for another potty break. (He's always had a strangely porous relationship with sleep.) As I join him in the darkened bathroom, I give him a friendly, "Hey Mike."
And that, my friends, is the joy of marriage. Good times.
Almost as good as the time when, returning to the husband who had been lying in bed listening to me puke in the bathroom, I asked, "You wanna make out?"