I usually meet that comment with my normal eye roll and a fake chuckle. I’m so used to hearing it now that I’ve actually thrown out my entire defense. I’m sad to admit that as much as I hate that “picky” label, I just quietly accept it. I’m told my tastes will mature as I get older. I won’t care about things as frivolous as clean sneakers or how he says goodbye when he hangs up the phone.