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Isn’t That (not) Romantic?

May 23, 2013

Everyone has heard the old adage: After a couple of years, the romance leaves the marriage.  And, I tend to agree with that statement.  However, in place of the romance – my husband and I experience things that are infinitely more exciting than romance. Really! Truly. Sometimes. (nevermind….) Ok, not infinitely more exciting than romance, but we do experience head-shakingly-inappropriate, cringe-worthy silliness we never did when we were younger. (Or when we still had some shred of modesty and decorum remaining.)

I think this tendency towards THIS IS WHO YOU ACTUALLY MARRIED and away from all romantic illusions started when I began to use earplugs to sleep. (Note to readers: BE CAREFUL OF EARPLUGS: They are veeeeeerrrry addictive!! Once you start using them, it is super difficult to sleep without them! It is also difficult to block out Sports Center or Seinfeld when you are trying to read!!) So I began to use earplugs when I wanted to relax – and not hear whatever channel he was “watching” with his eyes closed – while snoring loudly. (Remember watching Andy Griffith?  And Barney would be sleeping on the job – and the prisoner would be trying to sneak the keys away from Barney so he could escape – and at the last minute Barney wakes up, quickly grabs the keys, glares at the prisoner and yells: “WHAT IN THE HECK WERE YOU THINKING???”  Well, let’s just say:  KEYS = TV Remote-Control,  BARNEY FIFE = Husband,  ONLY SANE/AWAKE PERSON IN THE ROOM TRYING TO GET THE REMOTE TO TURN OFF THE TV = Me.)

Ma'am, Step away from the remote!

Ma’am, Step away from the remote!

Back to earplugs.  I began wearing them when the twins were born.  We had a baby monitor that picked up every gurgle and sigh and I could not get any sleep.  Even when I turned the volume way down, I still found myself awake although no one was screaming (my personal standard for getting out of bed.)  Jeff never. woke. up.  It was so strange that I woke up for everything and he woke up for noth-ing.  But, I digress.  The earplugs.  SO they worked like a charm!  I could sleep through regular noises and only wake up when the babies started crying to be fed.  I did not have to have George Costanza be the last thing I heard every night before going to sleep.  I could read in peace and not become overly irritated that Barney Jeff was sleeping while the TV was blaring ‘That Metal Show’, ‘How Things Work’, or ‘Golden Girls’.  (He has eclectic…. taste.)

I liked my earplugs so much, anytime I wanted a little bit of “pretend” solitude, I would put those puppies in.   If my earplugs were in – when Jeff said something it always sounded like “uuurghurgksugr”.  Because I was lazy I left my earplugs in place and usually just said, “uh-huh,”   or  “yeah, I know.”   But one day Jeff said, “uruuhgruhgsuru,” and I said “I love you too.”  He loudly replied (so I could actually hear him) ” WHADDAYA MEAN YOU LOVE ME??  I JUST FARTED.” And then he laughed and laughed until he farted again.   After that, I wore my earplugs for sleeping only.

Sometimes when I am working or sending emails I am sitting on the toilet.  (Maybe right now I am on the toilet???  But you will never know.  AND, you are welcome for that image that you cannot un-see.)  Anyway, I was talking to Jeff on the phone one day – while sitting on the toilet (Hey!  I was NOT feeling well….) and told him I had just sent an email to someone and he’s like, you mean sent a TEXT..  And I’m like, ah-no, EMAIL.  (HELLOOOO??  That’s why they’re called laptops.)  He was all like: “I can’t believe you are working on your computer in the bathroom,” and I’m all like:  “Who brushes their teeth while on the toilet?”  And he’s all like: “Well, yeah.”  And I’m all like: “WELL YEAH?  What kind of a clever comeback is WELL YEAH?”  And he’s all like, “Shut-up, Richard,” ala Tommy-Boy.  (Can’t you just smell the romance in the air?  Don’t answer that.)

I fall down.  In parking lots.  A LOT.   I fall down because I wear high heels and have weak ankles.  I run into berms because I am looking at coupons.  I trip over concrete parking curbs because I am drinking my coffee.  Somewhere there are security guards watching my “Greatest Hits”.  Literally.  Jeff says that I should watch America’s Funniest Home Videos because he is sure I will be on it some day, and he wants to make sure we get our share of those security guard’s $10,000 winnings.  Jeff shows his appreciation for my falls by doing an impression of me falling – in slow-motion with sound effects – to the delight of EVERYONE.  I do have to admit it’s pretty hilarious.  But HARDLY romantic.

In return, I tease him about his weird hair-cutting… “issues”.  He cuts his own hair with dog clippers (Jeff’s dad was a veterinarian and got a discount on ’em.  His Dad would also cure any of our ailments with animal penicillin, AND birth all my children if I would have allowed it.  Once he told me I was not that different from a cow.   Oh yes he did.)   I don’t pay too much attention to Jeff’s hair-cutting, but one day I was cleaning out our bathroom drawers and cupboards, and came upon this stolen white school towel that had something big and squishy wrapped up in it.  I set it up on the counter and opened it up…  AND THERE WAS A HUGE MASS OF HAIR.  And all I can think is WHO THE HELL SAVES THEIR HAIR?  It also got all over my bathroom and that really pissed me off.  When he got home I confronted him with the offending hair.  “WTF???  WHO saves their effing hair? That is so twisted!!  Are you saving up for a hair-pillow??”  He sheepishly said that since he was naked when he cuts his hair, he just didn’t want to get dressed and toss it outside in the garbage.  And he kinda has this system that he just keeps putting the cut hair in the stolen white school towel.  Forever.

Hey!  Is that a Hair Pillow??

Hey! Is that a Hair Pillow??

I sort-of understood his logic, but told him he was more than welcome to toss the hair into our bathroom garbage and I would make sure that it was taken out in a timely manner.  (NOTE: Sometimes people give each other small locks of their hair as mementos to keep close to their heart, but this huge stash of  hidden hair was definitely not romantic.) 

So as old-marrieds, we no longer take a long showers together, go to artsy movies every Friday night,  or travel to Napa to purchase wine every year.  But as time passes and those “romantic” things we used to do are replaced with comfort, security, gross-stupid-shit, and true deep adoration, I can say I don’t feel like I am missing out on ANY romance at all.

Oh.  And he still saves his hair.



From → Blog

  1. Deborah permalink

    I LOL through the whole thing~ Thanks!

  2. jfallen permalink

    Too damn funny and true. My wife and I are constantly cracking each other up with inappropriate comments and gestures, etc. while watching TV or getting ready for bed (ah the weird things that come to mind when you’re flinging floss-bits all over the mirror) and we wouldn’t trade it for the world (well, sometimes she might, I am often referred to as ‘one of the children’ ; ) but still… works for me!

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