Good-Bye to the Stupid Sheep

I sit down at yet another cafe that looks just like home because of the rainbow flag (which, I hope, means what it should) and ponder the following marital dilemma that has recently come up.

It turns out that N hates it when I refer to myself as “a stupid sheep.” I like calling myself a stupid sheep because I feel like there should be some self-irony tempering my tendency towards smugness to prevent me from getting too annoying. N, however, says that it hurts his feelings to hear the person he loves referred to as a stupid sheep. And it makes him feel like he needs to defend me from me.

So, I guess, for the sake of marital harmony, I will have to let go of the stupid sheep appellation.