There comes that moment, eventually, in every relationship where you just know you've reached "that" level. For some couples it's the first kiss, for others, the day they move in together, the day they get engaged or married, or the day they have their first child.
For us, that special day came last Tuesday.
"Come look at my poo!" said, TheBloke (TM).
Now, before I go on, I ought to give you some context on this. On our first ever holiday together to New York, apparently TheBloke (TM) had done the biggest poo in the world ever. He maintains to this day that a) not forcing me to look at it and b) not waddling into the hotel bedroom to get the camera to take a photo of it remains the most romantic thing he's ever done. Because we weren't "there" yet.
However, he talks about this poo often, almost as if it were something he gave birth to which he had to give away. A wistful glint appears in his eyes.
On Monday last week, TheBloke (TM) said to me, "Come and look at my massive poo!" I refused. And perhaps it was tiredness, perhaps it was jetlag, possibly even my own imagination, but I think he sulked for the rest of the evening.
So when he tried again on Tuesday, I didn't feel I could deny him.
"Come look at my poo!" he said. "It's even bigger than the one I did yesterday!"
I tried to turn him down, but the sad little puppy-dog look was too much to bear. Into the bathroom I went. "You might want to hold your nose," he said. I did.
I was immediately nearly sick. Twice.
I have to hand it to him though. It was a massive, massive poo. About the size of your average newborn.
With that in mind, if we ever decide to have children, I'm going to leave the childbirth to him. He clearly has an opening very much bigger than me. I will no longer let him sit on barstools in case he slips right over one.
At night when I shut my eyes, all I could see was his massive turd.
Ladies and gentlemen, TheBloke (TM) and I have now reached "that" level. I'll be honest, the level before was better.
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