For Christmas, Frank bought me a Stanley Fat Max 450 Amp Car Battery Jump Start Starter + Air Compressor Pump. Going back and forth between the lake, I do regularly drive on some of the most treacherous roads known to man, so it is incredibly practical. But not exactly romantic, which led me to ask myself, is the romance in our relationship dead? And, if so, how did we kill it? I think I have the answer: By only having one bathroom.
It is common knowledge that in order to keep the spark in a relationship, you also need to keep a little mystery, especially when it comes certain bodily functions. However, when you only have one bathroom, this becomes impossible. Frank has no issue with busting in right while I'm in the middle of a relaxing hot bath and plopping down on the toilet. He does, at least, bother to pull the shower curtain closed to block my view, but it doesn't block the smell.
I refuse to succumb to this level of inappropriate intimacy, which led to one of the most humiliating experiences of my adult life. Recently, the situation was reversed. Frank was lounging in the bathtub and had locked the door. I was in a most dire need of the toilet facilities. I banged and screamed, but he had the water running and couldn't hear me. There was no time to wait. I had to find an alternative. With the trees bare and a clear view from the apartment building behind us, the backyard was not an option. A bag would work. It wasn't glamorous, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I rushed to the laundry room to find one. Then, I simultaneously doubled over with a cramp and spotted the litter box. I need not describe what happened next, except that midway through the ordeal, my cat Angus walked in. He just stopped and stared. First confusion, then disgust filled his feline face.
"Don't judge me," I yelled.
Angus just smirked and went to tell our other cat Oscar what he'd witnessed.
When Frank finally emerged from his bath, he opened the door and asked, "Did I hear you knocking?"
"What did you need?"
"To use the bathroom."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll get out."
"No need, now."
"Did the urge pass?"
"Nope." I couldn't look him in the eyes.
"I don't understand."
After another ten minutes of incessant questions, I explained what had happened. For the first time in our marriage I saw sheer terror in my husband's eyes. I could see him picturing the whole thing in his head, Since then, he has woken up in a cold sweat, whimpering on several occasions. I'm pretty sure what his nightmares are about.
And that, my friends, is how you kill the romance.
the bourbonistA, Promoting Debauchery and stamping out political-correctness one blog at a time.