My husband has left me. Only for the weekend but I’m really going to miss him.
Someone asked me the other day how I knew I was ready for him to move in and my answer was “I wasn’t”. I actually told him he was staying over at my house too much. Then I noticed post was arriving at my house addressed to him. Then his payslip arrived and I realised he had told work he lived at my house. I should have been annoyed. I wasn’t. We fit. We always have and I hope we always will.
I picked up a pair of his pants off the bedroom floor and sniffed them to see if they were clean. That’s a mistake I’ll only make once. I immediately text him to tell him what I’d done and heard him laugh from the living room. We tell each other about our poos, from the smell, to the length, to how much we enjoyed doing them.
The other day in bed I farted. It was rotten. My husband took a deep breath. I asked him why he always breathes in when I fart and purposely tries to smell my anal announcements when I go to every effort to protect myself from his emissions. He told me its because he likes them. My husband likes the smell of my farts. WTAF.
In all seriousness though he’s my best friend. I’d hate to think of a day when I couldn’t just text him and tell him I’d had the most amazing poo and get a reply that says “I’m about to have one”.