The Refined Tastes of My Husband

I went to Ken’s birthday party this past weekend. He is now eighty-one. We got him a cane. Very high-tech. Very Top-of-the-Line. Surprisingly, he accepted it and promised to use it, instead of using his preferred method of coping with balance problems: “Tuck and Roll.”

We were a little concerned when we walked in because Mr. and Mrs. Wonderful had brought in an enormous gift bag crammed full of a big gift. Ken reached in to the gift bag and pulled out: Charmin Ultra Bathroom Tissue. This is also Gary’s preferred tissue. Knowing the S________ standard of gift buying I piped up “Oh, is that on sale?” And No, it Was Not On Sale. This toilet paper is so good they bought it FULL PRICE.

Gary is very particular about his bathroom tissue. He is a connoisseur of toilet paper. I discovered the refined tastes of my husband’s rectum about five years ago. (I am strongly considering re-wording that last sentence.) I made the horrible mistake of bringing home Angel Soft tissue, since it was on sale. Shock and disgust. Paper not good enough to wipe his ass, literally. He had me dance the toilet paper-purchasing dance, in which I bought a variety of tissues that he tried and dismissed as “Sandpaper!” and “Flimsy” and “Two Ply! I need Two Ply!” Finally we hit on Northern, and that was the preferred paper, until we were seduced by the promises of Charmin Ultra. Charmin Ultra with Lanolin, Vitamin E, and Aloe. You could eat this paper. They should put a nutritional information label on this paper. I was in particular seduced by the Charmin Ultra Mega Roll. Four Rolls in One! Change the paper 75% less often. This is key because: 1) Gary doesn’t ever put the new paper on the holder and 2) Gary’s mom taught him very strange bathroom habits.

I’m not complaining too bitterly because she taught him to take tissue and wipe down the vicinity of the toilet after he urinates. This is great. And he puts the seat down. Fabulous. Great job with Number One. But she also instilled in him a great fear of the Number Two. It must be flushed as soon as possible. Any molecule that comes out must be tided up immediately with a giant protective mitten of tissue, then flushed before it can, I don’t know, climb back. This makes Gary flush, oh, about 20 times per visit. People comment. When I’ve pointed out to Gary that his behavior is odd, he claims my behavior is odd. He protests, “Yeah, well, you let them sit there. You NAME yours. You wave goodbye when you flush.” This is an exaggeration.

At any rate, it’s so curious that the legendarily cheap Ken got the top-of-the-line tissue. I’ll be watching to see if that tissue is still in the bathroom after a few months.