a compliment

Yesterday, M. left for work while I was still semi-sleeping. He sat down on the bed next to where I was laying and said a couple of things, most of which are foggy. There was a "have a good day," and a "your face looks funny" and then he said something that I thought I heard clearly and remember distinctly: "In those pictures we took in Florida, you look like Che Guevara." I mumbled a thank you and rolled back over.

Later in the day, I remembered this interaction and called M.
me: "Did you say I looked like the marxist revolutionary Che Guevara?"
M.: "Um, no, I said you looked like Chita Rivera because you were wearing that fun dress."

oh.

not me

me