Look, I’ve described my boyfriend as my “partner in crime” just as often as the next woman who has no respect for the ears of the people around her. Still, it can get a little dicey. While my boyfriend and I do slay on the dance floor at weddings (love ya, Stace, sorry we broke your great-aunt’s hip), I also commit felonies with my real partner in crime all the time. Here’s a rundown of which crimes I commit with whom.
My boyfriend: Called each other “bae” on social media.
My actual partner in crime: Called in a bomb threat to get us out of jury duty.
My boyfriend: Held hands in a very crowded subway car even though it involved stretching his armpit over a woman with two toddlers and putting everyone at risk for COVID-19.
My actual partner in crime: Held up a group of teen-age girls. Stole their keychains and iPads, made them cry.
My boyfriend: Staged a proposal involving all of our mutual friends on Valentine’s Day. How cliché and dorky—I love him so much!
My actual partner in crime: Staged a heist. Robbed the good people of Arlington, Virginia, of seven hundred thousand dollars. A lot more money than those teens had! Sadly, fewer keychains.
My boyfriend: Requested just one fork for our shared order of nachos #engagementgoals.
My actual partner in crime: Used a fork to stab a man after he witnessed us leaving the bank robbery. Unfortunately, the only weapon we had with us was my lunch fork—I’m trying to pack salads instead of eating out #weddingdiet.
My boyfriend: Committed ourselves to each other in front of our cherished friends and family. Wept profusely. Kissed with tongue in front of the priest.
My actual partner in crime: Committed arson. Burned down the bank so that our fingerprints wouldn’t be at the scene of the crime when the F.B.I. arrived.
My boyfriend: Stole each other’s hearts! But at least it was mutual, so we each still have exactly one human heart.
My actual partner in crime: Stole a car because the police were after us.
My boyfriend: Got caught red-handed hiding each other’s anniversary gifts in the same spot. Oops! (Also, why did he get me a Peloton? What is he trying to say?)
My actual partner in crime: Got caught red-handed in a stolen vehicle on the 101 after we used his license to buy beer. Arrested for grand theft auto, burglary, and murder. It wasn’t even good beer.
My boyfriend: Lied about enjoying “Emily in Paris” because we both thought the other loved it. It’s just like that O’Henry short story, but I get to keep my hair and watch bad TV!
My actual partner in crime: Lied under oath when questioned about the armed robbery and our subsequent crime spree. Also, lied about enjoying “You” because it hit too close to home and neither of us wanted to admit it. Wished that we could relate to “Emily in Paris” instead.
My boyfriend: Got jealous about how much time we were devoting to our naughty hobbies (him: brewskis and poker with the boys; me: manslaughter).
My actual partner in crime: Got jealous that I seemed to have a better lawyer. Got life in jail.
My boyfriend: Referred to us as “partners in crime” in public. Made a joke about how the F.B.I. should investigate us.
My actual partner in crime: Actually, that’s worse than anything my actual partner in crime and I ever did.
