True intimacy

It always makes me laugh when I think about how overly romanticized our society makes marriage out to be. Don't get me wrong, romance is certainly alive and well in my household, but it doesn't take the form you read about in romance novels or bridal magazines. We're not so big on the flowers and lingerie and shmoopy notes. What really gets us going is fart jokes. Or making fun of each other's farts.

In fact, I knew it was true love with Jason because he was the first guy I was ever with that I could fart in front of and not feel uncomfortable. Real intimacy isn't sharing your deepest darkest secrets. It's flatulence without self-consciousness.

Actual text message exchange between Jason and a friend of his, made as we were walking the dog yesterday:

Friend: How's life, bro?
Jason: I'm fine, but Wendy's is about 2 b not so great.
Friend (clearly concerned): everything OK?
Jason: it's fine, but we're having curry for dinner 2nite.

I probably should have been alarmed or annoyed by Jason's prognostications. But it's hard to be annoyed when you can't stop giggling.