I have been married to my husband for a short two years- feels like a lifetime but I checked the Marriage Certificate just to be sure and sure enough- two years. Two years of marital bliss- a bliss of no fights, no farts and no fine art. (Note: That last one was the only word I could think of to keep my alliteration. It is not meant to offend anyone who enjoys fine art, I happen to enjoy fine art myself, however, sometimes fine art can cause marital problems, I mean it can cause brutal arguments between the sweetest and most intelligent couples-they tend to argue about what is defined as fine art and so I threw that in there so that we don’t become arrogant in thinking that fine art is not a cause of problems in this world. That’s all, but in the end it really was just a word to keep my awesome alliteration. Read on.)
Okay, now that we got that out of the way, let’s get back to my blissful fight free, fart free, fine art free marriage. 🙂 Okay, okay, you have probably have already figured out that I am lying- our marriage is not in fact fart free. In fact, we sometimes have fart contests- loudest, longest, smelliest and deadliest. Dan proudly wears his crown of victory in all categories because if you are not aware, I actually don’t fart. I fluff. I fluff so lady like it makes Queen Elizabeth proud. I am surprised she hasn’t called me yet to crown me with her lady fluff’s of glory- but a girl can dream.
So now that we know the truth about our marital fart and flufful (how do you even spell that word?) life, we can move on to the point of the post- The secret to a happy, fulfilling, passionate marriage. The secret is to fight about guacamole. Yes. you read that right. Fight about guacamole. Just so that we completely understand the context of the situation I want you to know that I make a killer guacamole. I mean, it’s fuckin amazing. Not to brag or anything. So anyway, I taught my husband, who loves to cook, and is also a kick ass chef, (and what woman doesn’t want a man who can satisfy her with a hot meal), how to make my secret recipe.
Well, I love my husband very much, and he is a very intelligent and kind man, however, the guy has decided to make his own version of MY guacamole. Right? I mean who the fuck does that? I perfected the methods and calculated just how much salt, lime juice and when those luscious avocadoes should be smashed and how. So since he has been taking over the cooking in our family, thanks to the demands of our new child Avery who wants to suck the life out of me, he changed the methods and calculations of my scrumptious guacamole. I found out about this sinful act when we were cooking together the other day, and I was flabbergasted with what I saw- the. guy. was. using. a. fork. A FORK to smash the avocadoes! Oh, but it doesn’t end there, oh no- the guy used pepper. Pepper. I may be just a bit bitter about that. So as I was trying to express my disbelief and very kindly and patiently told him of his wrongs he assured me that I have been eating this guacamole and LOVING IT for quite some time!
So the lesson? Being married humbles you. Sometimes your way of making guacamole isn’t the only way.