Him: You ironed my cargo pants. Huh.

Me: Of course I did. If I’m going to iron, I’m going to iron everything.

Him: You didn’t iron my t-shirts.

Me: No. Really? T-shirts?

Him: You said you iron everything.

Me: Everything people can see. No one sees your t-shirts.

Him: That’s what you think.

Me: Well, everyone that does see them is going to just crumple them up in a ball and throw them on the floor anyway.

Him: All the more reason to have them ironed.

Me: Maybe you could work that into your fee structure.

(Awkward pause)

Me: $1 a ride and ironing. That’s a fair charge, wouldn’t you say?

Him: Honey, the only person I pay for sex is you.

Me: Game, set, match.