There comes a time in a relationship when you become so comfortable around your significant other that you let go of your inhibitions and reveal the true you. This “true you” I’m referring to is the you who expels fluids, gases, and post-burrito noises in the presence of the individual you call “current soulmate”. You fully trust them and your weird body knows it.

I like to call this period ‘The Adorably Repulsive Phase’ because what my human organs are accomplishing is absolutely revolting but also super cute ‘cause you got the hots for me and basically anything I do at this point is attractive. It is the time when I often think; “Do you love me because I’m disgusting, or am I disgusting because you love me?” And you don’t feel shame or embarrassment or worry either. You allow nature to take it’s course and (like stinking up  the car on the long drive to your parents’ house).

I fall deeper into amore after witnessing my partner’s bladder do it’s thing. There is something extremely intimate about seeing a person’s private life unfolding before me. When these icky activities begin to surface and I become 100% cool with doing all of the below in front of my paramour, that’s when I know our connection is real.

Peeing all of the pee
One of the first steps towards realness is when I empty my urine into a toilet bowl beside my boyfriend as casually as I brush my teeth. This also happens while my BF is casually brushing his teeth. Number Twos might still be off limits but I know that if one accidentally drops, a break-up will not ensue. That is what my therapist calls “commitment”.

Burping all of the farts
I ate the chili and now my stomach apparently has a lot to say about it. I can’t hold back the convo my bum needs to have, so I permit the wind to pass and suddenly hot, putrid love is in the air. The smells of eggs and anchovies and indescribable funk fill the room and I’ve never been more confident in my beau’s affections for me.

Removing of the tampon/pad/menstrual cup
If you’re okay with observing me dumping my blood into a latrine, we’re gonna be sexing a lot.

Takin’ care of them blemishes
A couple that I am friends with told me recently that they sometimes pop each other’s zits. When I first heard this I gagged a thousand gags. But upon reflection, it’s rather heart-warming. I have never been assisted with pimple vanquishing, and I don’t know if I ever will be, but knowing somewhere in the world two of my friends are presently doing it to each other brings me great joy and more gagging.

The scratching of the buttocks
Sometimes you just gotta get in there and dig around until that itch has been quelled. If I got a wedgie, I stand up and pick that sucker at a candlelit dinner in the middle of an expensive restaurant while strangers stare aghast. If my sweetheart doesn’t flinch, I know I got something special.

Hysterically sobbing over tea not being hot enough
Crying isn’t really objectionable to the senses, but it’s still usually done in solitary, or at least in front of the understanding eyes of family/roommates/every single person on the bus. So, when my dude gets his ugly weep face on and doesn’t hold back his grotesque expressions, my vagina gets as wet as his eye holes do.

Filling your pillow case with your drool/your dog’s drool/a mix of both
The river of saliva is flowing and I have drenched my Valentine’s linen in slobber. How do they respond? They snap a photo and instagram it with the caption “My beautiful girl spits like an all-star” accompanied by a heart emoji. SWOON.

Investigating your nostrils
Is it a booger? Is it a large booger? Is it a larger booger? I need to explore this situation or I won’t be able to enjoy the rest of the evening. I’m encouraged by my suitor to grab a kleenex and begin the search. They even volunteer to take a look inside for me. #Romance

The intoxicated hurl
I forgot to drink water. I didn’t eat the prescribed bread. I drank all of the beer and half of the wine and a quarter of the whiskey. Now, here I am, hunched over a toilet hoping the dry heaving will arrive soon. And who is holding my vomit-filled hair back? My one and only. They do not judge me. They do not say I told you so. They merely support and help and sometimes vomit too. Solidarity.

Doing the diarrhea in the distance
As already mentioned, number two is intense to see go down no matter the circumstances, but we’ve all had nights where we’ve eaten three bricks of cheese and needed to plant our bowels in the bathroom for approximately four days. And I say, if I can’t do the dysentery in my beloved’s abode while they watch TV and pretend they don’t have ears, are they really my beloved? Don’t buy me a diamond necklace. Buy me air fresheners and matches and that poo spray. Those are the gifts of love.