Your birthday may just be the one day a year where you can get your stubborn, delinquent, tattoo and piercing covered boyfriend to do exactly what you want. He’s spent the day being dragged around various stores, each one filled with clothes and plushies and manga and everything else he’d rather die than be caught dead around.

What if someone saw him, the dangerous juvenile delinquent, waiting patiently in a clothes store as his girlfriend twirls around in her new dresses to show him? He couldn’t show his face again. He’s just about had enough of today, and he doesn’t think he could roll his eyes any harder than he has been for the past couple hours—that is, until you start to drag him towards a photo booth.

“Absolutely not.” He tells you, his tone and face completely deadpan and expressionless. He has a feeling he’ll end up caving anyway, though. “No. Over my dead body.”