The Moment I Knew

In all my past relationships, I’d at some point have moments where suddenly I’d think “wow, this guy is a real d-bag.” Those moments were usually precipitated by certain events…like him saying something really insensitive, or, you know, cheating. Things like that. I’ve heard, though, that when you are very much in love, you will instead have a moment where you stop and think to yourself “wow, I think I could actually spend the rest of my life with this person.” Friends of mine have stories about these moments:

• “It was when he told me he couldn’t imagine his life without me. I just knew we were perfect together!”


• “It was when he met my INSANE family, and he actually managed to charm them.”


• “It was when my grandpa died, and he was the most supportive person ever – I knew then that I could spend the rest of my life with him.”

Sweet, right?

Well, guys, I think I had my “moment” last week with Jack. Here’s the story:

I had the week off work, so of course I spent my time wisely—largely by sleeping half the day away. Poor Jack had to work, but had stayed the night at my house. He was quiet as a mouse getting ready so as not to wake me….until he needed 2 things:

First, he walked into my room and loudly said “Jill, are you OUT OF PEANUT BUTTER?” The rage was evident in his voice – a house without peanut butter is to Jack what a house without Spot is to me. Unacceptable. But, yes, I was out of peanut butter.

Twenty minutes later he returned to my room to share this: “So…um, your toilet is kind of clogged. I’ve spent about half an hour trying to fix it with no success. I can’t take it anymore, so I threw some Drano in there and I was hoping you could try to un-clog it when you get up.”

Oh, really? Well that sounds exactly like what I had in mind for my day off!

“Wait – you’re telling me that you clogged the toilet and now you’re LEAVING IT?” (This seems like a slightly harsh retaliation for running out of peanut butter, doesn’t it?)

“Well, yeah. I mean, I think it’s actually a problem with your toilet. There was nothing notable about what I was trying to flush, if you know what I mean. And I have to go to work.”

“Mmm-hmm, it’s obviously my toilet’s fault. OK. Well, have a good day at work. I’m going back to sleep.”

I went back to sleep, and a couple hours later got up, having forgotten all about our earlier conversation. Then I walked into my bathroom. This was the moment I knew that Jack and I probably have a future together. If you can walk into the bathroom where your partner has left a plunger sticking out of a toilet that HE clogged and not run away screaming, you probably have to admit that maybe you found someone special.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I knew.

Jack's Take:

After the "incident" Jill told me the following: "When you go #2, you should always flush before you begin to wipe. My toilet sometimes struggles when you ask it to flush your business and toilet paper."

Umm...so apparently whenever Jill poops, there's a half-time? Does an announcer's voice come over a loudspeaker and announce: "Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a 5 minute intermission."

Jill's toilet needs to be repaired. Period. Therefore, I don't feel too bad about leaving her toilet clogged with a plunger sticking out of it. It wasn't me, it was the toilet.

Summer Fun: The Porn Squad and Getting Banged

Jack and I had a really fun day yesterday. Actually, this whole summer has been pretty awesome, hence the sad lack of posts on this blog.

Anyway, yesterday after an hour or so at the pool, we went to run some errands. On the way back, we drove past a group of high-school age girls holding a sign that said "CAR WASH". There was another sign that said "Pom Squad". As we passed, Jack said "I think I need a car wash from the Porn Squad!"

"PORN SQUAD? Really? You think that's what that sign said? PORN squad?"

"Yeah, that's exactly what it said. Porn Squad."

"Honey, it's the POM SQUAD - like cheerleaders or whatever."

"No, it was definitely the Porn Squad, and I think they should wash my car."

He insisted that it made much more sense that a group of teenage girls would be on a Porn Squad instead of a Pom Squad. Because that's totally logical. And not at all illegal.

Later that afternoon, we went to play some tennis. Now, one thing to know here is that Jack played tennis all through high school, whereas I took one week of lessons back when I was 16. I know the basics of the game, and can hit the ball, but not very hard and not very accurately. I still like to play, though, because it's fun to hit balls, and it's a good workout (that's what she said). While we played, Jack was refreshing me on the rules, giving me some pointers on my backhand, and so on an so forth. We were on our last game of the match (he had already won 5 games, I had won one and it was clear he'd be winning the 6th shortly), he tells me "now honey, when you get shut out on the final game of a match, you've been 'banged' - that's what they call it when that happens."

"Really? That's weird."

Shortly thereafter, he won the last point and I loudly announced "I just got banged!" to try out my new tennis lingo.

I thought it sounded funny, but who am I to argue with a long time tennis player, right?

Fast forward to last night. We're about to go to sleep and Jack says, quite ominously, "Honey, I need to come clean about something, because if I die in my sleep or something I just can't have this on my conscience."

"Um....okay, what?"

In my head I'm thinking he's going to say something like 'I slept with your best friend!' or 'I killed a puppy yesterday just for fun!' because my mind goes to places like that when someone starts a statement the way Jack did.

He continued: "In tennis, there's no such thing as 'getting banged' - it's not a tennis term at all. So if someday you're playing with someone else, I just don't want to be responsible for you saying 'YOU BANGED ME!' Okay?"

After over a year, he is finally figuring out just how incredibly gullible I am. It's about time. I, however, still apparently have not figured out that Jack is always lying to me. Hmph.

Honesty is the Best Policy (Most of the Time)

Fellas, this one's for you. You know the old adage, "Honesty is the best policy?" Well I'm here to tell you that this adage needs to be revised as follows: Honesty is the best policy, most of the time. Without further ado, here are the six specific situations when honesty is not the best policy (oh, and Jill's comments are in red):

(1) When your significant other asks you if your ex-girlfriend was attractive.
The answer should always be, "she was average or maybe slightly above-average, but not nearly as attractive as you."

(2) When your significant other asks you if you think she's gained weight recently.
The answer is always, "no." Always.

Jill says: I had to break this down for Jack--we women always, ALWAYS know when we've gained weight. So if you think you're being helpful by pointing it out, well, you're not. It's called "kicking us when we're down and then not getting any lovin' for a while because now you've made us feel like we're gigantic and disgusting looking!" I don't recommend it.

(3) When your significant other asks you if she's the best lover you've ever had.
The answer is always, "yes." Always.

Jill says: What self respecting human asks this anyway? I mean, if it's not offered up, chances are you're not #1....so by asking, you're either going to hear a truth you don't want to hear and then obsess about it, or you're going to hear a lie and know it's a lie. If he doesn't tell, don't ask.

(4) When your significant other asks you if you find her best friend attractive. I don't care if her best friend is Angelina Jolie; you do not think she's attractive! If you can't bring yourself to lie, say something ambiguous like, "I think she's nice."

(5) When your significant other says something like, "My mom can be a bit annoying sometimes, can't she?"

This is a trap. Do not agree with her. Trust me on this one, please.

(6) When your significant other shows you a picture of Wendy Larson - her arch-nemesis in high school - and asks you if you would have had any interest in dating her when you were 17.
Ideally, you should wince and say, "Uggh, no way."

Jill says: That Wendy Larson was a whore! I don't care what you say, she was a dirty little trollop whose breast size was inversely proportionate to her brain size (note: BIG boobs, tiny brain, in case I lost any of you there with my math-like talk).

So if you ever find yourself in any of these six situations, please remember: honesty is not always the best policy. Let me know if you think I missed any.

An Open Letter to Jack's Dentist

Dear Dr. Miller, DDS:

You've been my dentist for the past six years. Every six months or so, you check out my teeth and give me some things to work on (e.g., "floss every day," "use a Sonicare," "drink less red wine"). Well after last week's check-up, I decided that it's time for me to provide you with some things to work on.

(1) Brush your teeth before every appointment. Have you noticed how I always show up for my check-up with a freshly cleaned mouth? Well, you should do the same. That dentist mask you're wearing is not nearly as resistant as you apparently think it is. So if you feel the need to polish off a can of sour cream & onion Pringles and a bottle of Mr. Pibb right before you see me, at least have the decency to swirl some Listerine. Please?

(2) Do not ask me open-ended questions while keeping your instruments stuffed down my throat. Seriously. Are you not familiar with what it takes to speak? One needs to be able to move their mouth, for starters. If you're going to limit yourself to yes or no questions (e.g., "do you need a rinse?" "nice weather, huh?" "do you mind if I take off my pants?"), ask away. But do not - I REPEAT, DO NOT - ask me to summarize the plot of Slumdog Millionaire while simultaneously immobilizing my jaw and applying fluoride.

(3) Back. The. F'. Up. You know all of those fancy tools you have on that tray next to you? Are you sure one of them isn't a magnifying glass? See, if you had a magnifying glass, then you probably wouldn't have to get FOUR INCHES AWAY FROM MY FACE to see whatever it is you need to see. Sometimes I get confused: are you trying to clean my teeth or give me mouth-to-mouth? On a related note, did you just eat a can full of Pringles?

(4) Don't Insult Me With a Free 25 Cent Toothbrush. After causing (a) aching in my teeth, (b) swelling in my gums, (c) numbness in my jaw - and after (d) nearly drowning me with that hose/rinsing tool - do not expect to "make it all better" by giving me a cheap, plastic toothbrush with five limp bristles. Would it really kill you to spend the extra $1.49 to hook me up with a toothbrush that I'd actually consider using for something other than cleaning my sink? You and I both know you're going to charge my insurance company more than enough to cover the cost.

See you in six months,

Jack