I Am the Guacamole

Something interesting and odd happened yesterday - I checked my ADITW gmail account.  I don't do that often because Mom knows my cell number and her non-English speaking co-workers have no desire to contact me, so that  pretty much covers everyone.  Yesterday, however, in between the pitches from a cleaning brush company (hi, I don't clean) and Twitter comments, there was what looked like a legit e-mail from someone from a legit looking company who is doing a documentary on couples and relationships and seemed to have actually read the blog and wanted to talk to me.  Huh.  Weird.

Day One of our White Trash Journey together. 

Committing to love guacamole forever, no matter how bad it gets.

When I spoke to E-mailing Documentarian, with her fetching British accent, I asked her almost nothing about her project and just started talking, because that's how I roll.  "Oh, we're going to talk about ME?  Okay, let me start at the beginning...I was born in Nebraska to a poor but proud family."  I told her that I wasn't sure what kind of project she's working on, but my relationship is about wanting to snuggle in bed one night and hold the pillow over his head until he stops kicking the next, so if you want to highlight imperfection with possible future homicide, we're your couple.  We're like bipolar love. 

Unfazed, she asked what the key to our relationship is, or something like that, and I said one thing is that we can tolerate each other and know how to check the other person to keep them from embarrassing themselves, like when I'm telling the story about the time we had sex in my parent's garage.  When I start with "There was this time before we were married that we had to find an inflatable raft..." and he knows to step in, stop me, change the subject, and pry the drink out of my hand.  That essentially, we have each other's backs.

This is the point in the conversation when it became abundantly clear that I am guacamole.

Look at it!  It's so festive!  It makes you want to have a party, no?  Guacamole is a party food!  It's what you serve when you want to add a little spice.  But guac is best served fresh, and after a few hours it gets a little dark around the edges and starts to not look so good, and while everyone was RAVING about the guacamole a couple of hours ago, suddenly no one wants to eat it anymore and the hostess is starting to dread cleaning the bowl. Essentially, most people don't want guacamole around unless they are having a party, and then they kind of tire of it.  I've had a number of friends over the years who just hit their limit on how much guacamole they can stomach, and I can't fault them for it.  It's not salsa or cheese dip.  You can only take SO. MUCH.

But not Current Husband.  He LOVES guacamole.  Can't get enough of it.  Even when the guacamole doesn't want guacamole anymore, he's like, "Holy shit, is there MORE of that guac?  Scoop me up some of that kick-ass guacamole!"  Now that we are aging, he knows he shouldn't have guacamole and is in the bathroom downing Prilosec and Tums and moaning, but he still loves the guac.  And how can I not love a guy who loves guacamole so damn much?

So to you, CH?  I salute you.  You can put your chips in me anytime.  But be warned, British documentarian....we are not Oscar material.  TruTV material, perhaps.  But nothing classy.