Photo reblogged via goodolddays: wehadfacesthen: onmyowntwohands:bigfun: melisaki
When I’m at home and I pee with the door open, whether my husband is home or not, I think of this:
I don’t want to get married because I see how my parents are. And they’ve been together, like, years…and they’re like brother and sister at this point. My mother goes to the bathroom with the door open…. It’s disgusting. I don’t want any part of that. I want first kisses. I want passion the whole way through.
- Vickie Miner (played by Janeane Garofalo) in Reality Bites
I pee in front of my husband. He pees in front of me, but all other matters require closed doors. What I think about when I’m peeing with the door open—always during conversations that are too important to interrupt with a bathroom break like death, taxes, and what we’re doing with our lives—is, does it kill the passion? It doesn’t feel like it does, to me. I watch him put on deodorant, clean dog poop off of his shoes, pull up gunk from the garbage disposal when it gets stuck. So what’s a little peeing going to hurt? But I still think about it.
Is peeing with the door open the first step on the road to sleeping in separate beds, eating meals in silence, and constantly nagging about turning the heating down?
