Literally just had this exchange with my partner of 26 years. I’m curious about how typical our interaction is in the wider Lemmyverse.
Literally just had this exchange with my partner of 26 years. I’m curious about how typical our interaction is in the wider Lemmyverse.
Obviously it’s not a romantic thing, but also related to the individual’s level of comfort with seeming insults, this is a recent situation that did not make sense to a coworker of mine.
My dad just cut his finger off (non dominant pointer, so either #4 or #5 most important, depending on how highly you rate pinkies) the other day after many, many decades of woodworking and general tinkering. He’s otherwise okay, but it hurt like a bitch and it couldn’t be reattached. He’s mostly regretful, with a touch of existential jolting.
My sisters and I got him a giant foam finger two days after it happened and he laughed his fucking head off. I got a pretty good chuckle on that very day from “hey, 9/10 ain’t bad,” but I’m pretty sure that was mostly the painkillers, because it’s not a good joke.
My coworker told us under no circumstances to get the foam finger and we should just be nice. I get the sentiment, but that would scare the shit out of my dad. For context, after shaving his wife’s head during the course of her chemo treatments, my dad looked at her in the mirror when she was feeling nearly her lowest and said that he’d always had a crush on uncle Fenster, but he’d never expected to get so lucky. She laughed uproariously.
I was raised by these people, so that’s the kind of thing that I say. A relationship with someone who was always earnest would not work for either of us.
The giant foam finger is such an amazing idea for the right person.
Holy shit, I think I love your parents 🤣
If you want another story, when I was a four year old girl, I asked my mother how my dad proposed to her, looking for a fairytale. She told me they’d been together for eight years, so “at that point it was really shit or get off the pot.” This was probably the first time she swore in front of me, and she only did it a dozen times or so ever (though I was twelve when she died, so she was still editing herself).
My dad also separately started hitting a silver quarter with a spoon on the night after their first date, and hit it so many thousands of times over the next several years that he was able to shape it into a ring for her, which is one of the most romantic things I’ve ever heard, but that wasn’t a proposal, so she didn’t tell me that story for several years.
OH MY GOD!!!
When I was in college, a computer lab coworker asked me how long I had been dating my girlfriend.
I told her 6 years. She said, “Shit or get off the pot!”
That was the moment I decided to propose. We’ve been married for 33 years, together for 39.
When people ask about the proposal, I tell that story, and end with, “…so I decided to shit.”