I was sitting at the computer deep in thought, wearing my glasses, unwashed hair, yesterday’s makeup (yeah, don’t ask), slouched, and not feeling great.

Darling Husband: You’re beautiful.
Me (assuming that he was being sarcastic): Whatever, shut up. (not looking up from my computer)
DH: I’m serious.
Me: There is no evidence to support your claim.

Later…
DH: You’re beautiful.
Me: That’s getting annoying.
DH: What do you mean? You’re ALWAYS beautiful.
Me: “Always” is much too lofty a claim. You see, you’re a pretty person by nature. You’re pretty about 95% of the time. Your “not beautiful time” is only limited to about 5%. I, on the other hand, could only claim your description 13% of the time. 13% is certainly not “always” and it certainly isn’t now. ┬áIn fact, 13% is kind of generous. I’m aware that though I am the girl in this relationship, I’m not the pretty one. I’m okay with that. I’ll stare at you.
DH: You’re …(calculating in his head) 87% a dork. You say that I have rose-colored glasses, but maybe you’re just wearing cloudy shades 5% of the time.
Me: Wow. You’re going to contest the mere 5% instead of accepting the 95%? Your hyper-optimism just killed your argument.

I know that I should just accept the hyper-optimism as a gift, but the lack of reason begs for a rebuttal.