The Word Show

A new relationship is an exciting thing. There’s the initial thrill of meeting someone you like and, if it goes well and she likes you back, then maybe there’s a 2nd date, which soon begets the 3rd and 4th date and, pretty soon, if you haven’t made a mess of things up until that point, you are in a full-blown relationship.

Or are you? How do you know? When is a relationship sealed and made official? Certainly not after the first sleepover – the prevalence of casual sex in our culture has taken care of that. And though many people have their own, personal criteria for measuring such things, there has never been a set, universally agreed-upon marker to demarcate when a relationship has begun.

Well, that’s not exactly right. There’s always been that one milestone, but it was always too dirty – too grizzly – an event to be the socially acceptable measure. Indeed, the passing – and that verb is very appropriate – of this milestone says: “Let us walk, m’lady, from this day forth, arm in arm, through the desert, across the frozen tundra, and, if there is time, through the hanging gardens of Babylon, as a couple.” This milestone to which I refer is, of course, the first time you have a poo while she’s over.

That really is the first time you realize things are getting serious. Up until that point, avoiding a BM in front of the new girl is a necessary dance we must endure. Even after a night of hard drinking, where such a release would be sweet relief in your hungover, bloated state, you must grin and bear it, pretending that a liberating waste deposit is the last thing you would want. Nope, definitely don’t need to pinch a loaf – you’d much rather listen to some Miles on your vintage phonograph and maybe pour you and your sweetheart a mimosa. Uh-huh.

And when the day does come that you decide the charade must end, it starts off innocently enough: maybe it’s the morning after date #5, and maybe you suggest that, for a change, it being the 5th or so sleepover, perhaps in lieu of going out for brunch, you can just rustle up some of your famous scrambies, home-brewed coffee, and family recipe bran muffins. How cozy!

But then nature, invariably, runs its course, and you very quickly realize why young couples enjoy going out for brunch. Hint: it’s not because omelettes are difficult to cook -that only the best, most hirsute, grumpiest, most hungover short-order cook in all the land could be trusted to pour eggbeaters into a frying pan.

No, that is not why young couples enjoy brunch. They enjoy it because where there’s brunch, there is a public restroom. And where there’s a public lav, there’s a throne built expressly for that anonymous, noxious deposit.

But enough of that. You made your choice, hotshot. You’ve had your home-brewed coffee, your homemade bran and, perhaps, feeling all European and sophisticated, your cigarette. The damsel you are courting is suitably impressed. But now, it is very much “go” time; the digestive witching hour, and it’s time to make your bathroom smell like the aftermath of a Viking invasion – that is, if the Vikings had invaded Mexico and claimed the burrito as their own. It’s ok, though. Better she know early on what you’re capable of. Who knows? She may even be impressed.