I don’t even know where to begin.
I guess I can start around 17 years ago when I got divorced.
At that time, I decided a few things about my next real relationship. I decided that I would really examine my own self and try to improve. I also decided that the only person that I would clean up after would be a human being whom I gave birth to.
Most importantly I decided that I never, ever….never, ever, ever needed to see my partner on the toilet. I never, ever needed to hear them or smell them. Oh yah. This is a big boundary for me, and my man knows it.
With three children in university and college, and all the stresses of merging two lives and two families, let’s just say our communication has been a series of to-do and to-buy lists along with griping about the others living habits. Our intimate communication has been less than five star. In fact, it’s been f-ing horrible.
The long and the short of it is that we committed to re-connecting, and after our hour-of-power-a-la-boudoir, we began to settle in to what I like to refer to as a ‘time of tenderness’. You know what I mean ladies, when you feel all cuddly and want to talk, and reconnect to the awesome partner you fell in love with. With the bother of passion out of the way, it was clearly time to rekindle our friendship. This is also usually the time that your man falls asleep and you begin hating him again.
So last night, music playing in the background, stretched out feeling blissful, reliving our recent forray into, well, let’s call it the-glorious-climb-to-the-snow-capped-peak…. I awaited my man’s return from our en suite bathroom.
Do not leave the bathroom door open unless you’re sick.
In the candlelit quiet, my heart eased a bit, and I actually felt like a woman, not a domestic workhorse. From the bathroom;
“Hey – do you like The Killers?”
In my head; Sweet Jesus, does the man have a romantic drop of blood in his body?
Out loud; “Yes.”
He then passes gas, tinkles and says, “So do I.”
In my head; Brilliant. He’s perched on the toilet with the door open. The romance is, officially dead.
…and back we go to the reality of life. Poop. Money. Who’s cooking dinner.
It really takes work to keep a spark alive. Trust me, keep the pilot light lit, it makes it a lot easier.
Remember that you’re friends, and always, always, always, close the bathroom door.