We spend the entire first four months of a relationship trying to make the other person think we're perfect. Women try to convince the men that they wake up looking this sexy/fresh and men try to convince the women that they don't have any disgusting mannerisms or that they smell. The next four months are a slow move into honesty. Women try to convince the men they wake up looking just short of adorable and men admit to occasional bowel movement/fart and get caught picking their nose. Sooner or later a year has gone by. Women have become some what comfortable and may or may not go without make up in front of the men. Men have lost all sense of decency and proclaim that the woman shall like him they way he is - skid marks, bed farts, turds left floating in the toilet and all.
TH and I were like that. For the first four years of our relationship, I had him convinced I did not fart or poop and I looked like a Vogue cover every minute of every day. When we went on long trips, I would wait until we ate out at a restaurant so I could use the bathroom. I didn't want to be stuck in a hotel room and have him find out I was just as gross as he was. I have actually farted out the window of the Millennium Bostonian in Boston. A beautiful classy hotel that I stuck my pajama clad hiney out between the terrace doors and polluted Fanueil Hall.
Eleven years later, I could really care less. The man must honestly and truly love me, for he thinks I'm a sex goddess even when I come home from a 1 1/2 hour yoga class, sweaty and smelling of other people’s armpits. (True story! He grabbed me last week) I have been able to perform every bodily function within a 15 foot radius of him and he still thinks I'm fabulous and wants to ravage my body. (not necessary just after or during said functions) Ladies, it's been a relief. Now, I can actually release unwanted gas during a long trip instead of clenching and twisting in pain while I try desperately not to pollute the interior of the car. I did this the other day. Load of coffee during brunch = uncomfortable situation. I just let it happen. Of course, I immediately rolled down the window. I didn't know what the outcome, but I was prepared. TH looked over at me, curious as to why I'd open the car window while it was raining. Then he smirked at me and rolled his eyes. Oh the love! This man is the best.
The only time I ever have a problem with disgusting behaviors is when we have vacation time with his family. This weekend, I was stuck in ski condo for three days with his parents. Three days of rich, yummy food. Three days of excessive alcohol consumption. Three days of intestinal distress. Three days of running to the second floor guest bathroom so no one would know what I was doing. The pure agony of waiting until the first floor guest bathroom was occupied so I could have the excuse to use the second floor. The need to pop up from my carefully accessorized nest on the couch to run into our bedroom to "get something". The jealousy I felt when my father-in-law ripped a big one while watching Apollo or TH while he was moseying around the family room. It's just not fair. Men are allowed to be gross.
Thankfully, we have returned home. To a place where I can truly be my disgusting self.
Guys, your woman is just like you. Okay, maybe not AS gross as you. We don't like to sit in the bathroom reading for an hour, marinating in our own stench. We're also not proud of the sound, bass quality, potency, length and pitch of our emissions. We make sure the toilet flushes ALL THE WAY and we know how to use toilet paper properly. But, we ladies are still human. We don't wake up all purdy (I have long blond hair and TH says I look like an "angry lion" when I wake up) and we're exhausted from looking perfect all the time. Love us for ourselves. Be like TH. The man accepts me for who I am and he gets a blowjob when ever he wants. No questions asked!