The things that people say...

I am a great talker. (Please feign surprise if you can....) That said, I never feel the need for making idle conversation just for the sake of it. This has been the reason in the past that I have had difficulty in finding a new hairdresser when required. Similarly, finding someone to attend to my pubic topiary needs. I don't want to discuss the most inane things - frankly I would rather I could read a book and let them get on with it.

The same goes for idle chit-chat at parties and so forth. I detest the superficiality of many conversations, when it seems its only purpose is to fill the air with sound.

But my most LOATHED form of idle chat is the one I seem to be getting a lot of late. (In fact, both Mr Subtle and I.) It seems that since our nuptials, over three months ago, whenever we see someone that we may have not seen since then, or before, their only form of conversation is the question, "So how is married life?".

I can't tell you how frustrating and ridiculous I find this statement. I had taken to replying, with some element of glibness, "Oh just the same, except now I get to complain about my husband, rather than my boyfriend." I thought, perhaps, that this reaction was limited to myself, especially since I can be a trifle grumpy with people I perceive as stupid. But, thankfully, my darling Mr Subtle said that he has been getting inundated with the same question, and he too has come up with his standard answer. For him, he replies, "About the same, except now I get to wear this pretty ring!".

Bless him!

Maturity

Today marks Subtle's 30th birthday* and his progression to a new phase of adulthood - or at least another version of it. As becomes more obvious as I get older, men don't really progress much past about 14 years of age. Bum and Fart jokes still make them giggle, and computer games and comics are common fodder for a growing contingent of the male population. When he gets together with his friends, as will occur this weekend, I feel like a mother shaking her head at the inane comments that abound and wonder for the fate of the world.

Of course, given the above commentary, one would assume that I must therefore assume some sort of superior role. And often, I think I do. Fart jokes don't make me laugh, and slap-stick humour, that which often proves hilarious to our youth, makes me cringe. But I have to admit to a few "word issues" that I do have. I work in the medical field and strangely, the words that I find difficult to say without giggling are related to work.

Firstly, I can't say "verge" . A part of the anatomy that we often treat is the "anal verge"... so I hear verge, and then my head hears anal - and well, it is all downhill from there. Secondly, I can't say "vault" . Another area we treat is the "vaginal vault"... so I hear vault, and go to vagina, and the giggling starts all over again.**

So I really have to relinquish my high horse, because it seems that while my infantile husband might like fart and bum jokes, it appears that I am only one step removed from liking them myself.





* Happy Birthday my darling man!

**The other words I have trouble with are not related to work. But I think it doesn't take much to work out why I have difficulty with "snatch" and "fingering".