A while ago, I found myself dealing with an incredibly annoying issue—a sizable pimple located uncomfortably between my right butt cheek and upper thigh. There, I said it. It’s not pretty, but it’s part of life, right?
Initially, it was just a minor irritation, but it quickly escalated into something so painful that I had to carefully consider every time I wanted to sit down. At that point, I was in graduate school, spending long hours perched on a hard wooden chair that did not help my predicament. I couldn’t tell if this monster was pressing on a nerve, but I often felt that prickling sensation in my leg whenever I sat.
I attempted to pop it multiple times, but the angle was all wrong. My flexibility was lacking, and while I’d love to blame my short arms, I think even someone with longer ones would have struggled with this particular angle. For several days, I held out hope it would simply disappear, but it only grew larger. Admittedly, having a painful pimple on my rear was beyond embarrassing. It was just a pimple—something I had dealt with since my teenage years—but this particular one stubbornly refused to pop or fade away, turning my daily routine into a battle against discomfort.
I even resorted to using kitchen utensils and an old coat hanger in a desperate attempt to fix the situation. I contemplated visiting a doctor, but with my busy graduate schedule and two kids, we just didn’t have the funds for a pimple specialist. After two weeks of living with this unwelcome guest, I finally surrendered to the reality of my situation and made a decision I never thought I would: I asked my wife, Sarah, to take a look at my butt zit.
Yes, I went there. Because nothing defines true love quite like asking your spouse to address a zit on your backside. It was evening; our two children were asleep. I awkwardly positioned myself on the couch, one cheek resting on the cushion while my back leaned against the armrest.
“Are you seriously asking me to examine a zit on your butt?” Sarah replied, incredulity lacing her tone.
“No, no, I just want you to check it out. Make sure it’s not an alien life form or a deadly tumor. It’s really painful.”
She gave me a skeptical glance, eyes darting back and forth, clearly conflicted. I knew she loved me, but I could tell this was not how she envisioned spending her evening. I tried to lighten the mood, but failed miserably, “If you happen to look and decide it’s something you can handle, I would be forever grateful.”
My attempt at humor fell flat. She understood exactly what I was asking, and there was no going back. “Yeah… that’s what you’re asking,” Sarah replied, her voice a mix of love and reluctance, indicating she’d help me not out of desire, but out of love.
“Drop your pants,” she instructed.
There I was, standing in the living room with my pants around my ankles, hands pressed against the back of our recliner, while my wife of six years knelt down, glasses perched on her nose, face just inches from my behind. I heard her mention the lighting was poor, and I couldn’t help but wonder if this moment would be a breaking point. I imagined it being discussed in a courtroom someday, with her lawyer detailing this absurd scenario to a judge who could hardly mask their disgust.
“Wow!” Sarah exclaimed. “How have you been walking? It’s like a silver dollar back here.”
“I know,” I replied, feeling utterly defeated. “It’s awful.”
With a deep breath, she reached in with two fingers and with a little pressure—POP! It was over.
“Ugh…” she said, “It smells!”
“I’m so sorry,” I replied, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me.
“It got on my shirt,” she added, half-gagging at the revelation.
“Oh no, I’m truly sorry,” I apologized again.
“I hope you realize how much I love you,” she said, sarcasm lacing her words, yet the underlying truth was clear—she really did love me. Sometimes, love looks less like grand romantic gestures and more like tackling the gross realities of life to relieve the discomfort of the one you cherish.
With a sigh of relief, I said, “You are incredible. I love you.”
As she excused herself to wash her hands, I began to get dressed. “I’m going to need a shower,” she said. “And some chocolate… lots of chocolate. I need something sweet to help me forget this.”
I kissed her forehead and dashed to the store, grateful for her unwavering support.
In love and partnership, we encounter many uncomfortable moments that ultimately strengthen our bond. Whether it’s tackling awkward situations or simply being there for each other, true love is about facing the messy realities of life together.
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In summary, true love often involves navigating through the awkward and unpleasant aspects of life together, reinforcing the bond between partners in ways that are both humorous and touching.