I thought space was going to be the most romantic time of our 10-month relationship. That’s why, before we left, I got three new rompers and a bikini wax. You can imagine how I felt when we strapped in for take-off and I realized Derrick was wearing his “weekend” sweatpants—the ones with a distinct hot Cheetos handprint on the crotch. That’s when he decided to tell me that instead of using vacation days for this voyage, like a normal person, he quit his job. He says he thought we’d be gone for years. He swears I never told him it takes a day and a half to get to the moon. And that’s because Derrick is a ferret-faced liar. . Derrick promised me he wouldn’t bring weed to the moon. In fact, he told me he doesn’t even like to “blaze up” anymore. But as soon as we made it past Earth’s atmosphere and into orbit, he locked himself in the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, he came out giggling and ate all of our space food. Three days’ worth of freeze-dried rations, right out of the packet. I was like, “DAMNIT, DERRICK—YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO ADD WATER.” . That night, I had a dream I poked a hole in his spacesuit and let all the oxygen drain out. #spacetravel #tothemoonandback #loveknowsnoboundaries #bringtheweed #dealbreakers https://www.instagram.com/p/Bx8Jzmhg5kJ/?igshid=1b5qwix2s28rj