The guy next to me whispers, "Man, can you imagine waking up next to that?"
I could tell him I have; that many nights she came to bed with dirty feet, that she ate disgusting things like sardine sandwiches in bed, that she farted and snored even worse than me. All that and more.
But I don't. All I say is, "Yep, it'd be something," before I take a longer drink of my beer.