What is love?

Recent conversation overheard between two first time cohabitants:

Whew, I'm really gassy. My insides are all hurty because of it.

I'm sorry.

Ow. Oooooow.

Well, do I need to burp you?

Yeah, maybe.

Well, come here.

Climbs on lap facing significant other.

Buuuuurpaaaaargghhh Ah. Ruuurrrp. Bupfffruuup. Gurrrruuup. Recovers. Wow. Thanks.

Uh, yeah, I guess you were gassy.

Told you. Love you.

Love you too.

_____________________________________________________


Speaking of gas, Chuck and I crossed our final relationship frontier. One of us deliberately and purposefully farted in front of the other. Up until now busting the accidental toot was met with red cheeks and awkward giggles.

That was until a couple weeks ago. I was trying to goose Charlie, and he got mad and threatened that he was going to fart on my hand. (which, um yeah, what are we 12, Charlie?) AND THEN HE DID. I’ll repeat for those in the back. The man FARTED. ON. MY. HAND.

So that final barrier just wasn’t crossed. Oh no. It was cluster bombed, folks.

ON.

MY.

HAND.