I may have just gotten the world’s strangest/best gift I never asked for.
My partner is the king of gift giving. Not a holiday, birthday or anniversary goes by without him presenting me with a carefully selected card, followed up by a gift that demonstrates to me just how well he knows me and listens to me. Yup. I married “that guy.” And it’s exhausting.
Why you ask? Because I am the absolute worst at gift giving. I hate it. It gives me hives just thinking about it. It’s why I procrastinate about it and end up rummaging in a gas station at the last minute. Nothing says “Happy Anniversary,” like flavoured chewing tobacco and a “We’re Sorry About Your Loss,” bereavement card. And I’m pretty sure I’ve over-played the shit-ass home-made coupons that we both know I’ll never make good on.
But this year my amazing gift giver of a husband made an unexpected misstep. Or at least I thought he did.
For my forty-sixth birthday he gave me a BIDET.
Yes, you read that right. To celebrate the day that marked my entry into this world many moons ago he felt a contraption that shoots a jet stream of water into my backdoor was the perfect gift. Nothing, and I mean nothing, prepares you for opening a something like that.
What made matters worse/weirder was how very excited he was about it. He kept pointing out all the insane quotes on the box heralding the joys of “bidet life,” and insisted that this would be a “game change,” for us. Which, quite frankly, frightened me. Was my toileting “game,” really in need of changing?
Not really knowing how to respond to such an odd gift, I said “thank you,” trying my best not to sound too disappointed, all the while secretly hoping that this was some weird gag gift and my real present, like a life size cut out of Tom Welling, was waiting in the bathroom for me.
But it wasn’t.
After about twenty minutes of giving him what I felt was my best “Where’s my real gift face?” I finally relented and followed him to our bathroom where I was greeted by a weird nozzly thing attached to the inner rim of our toilet accompanied by a roboty control panel on the side of the bowl. I was terrified.
And then I tried it…
Fair warning peoples of the inter-ma-net, we’re about to enter the over share zone. There is no way you will ever be able to unread what you are about to read here and it may forever change how you feel about my bum and perhaps all bums, so proceed with caution.
It rocked my world. And no, not in any kind of creepy toilet fetish kind of way. (And eww gross if you went there.) But in a “I can’t believe how clean and wonderful my tushy feels,” kind of way.
I now realize that I have been a giant sucker for the last forty-six years of my life for not using one of these things. It is a game changer. And the box was right, I never want to poo away from my house ever again. “Bidet is love, bidet is life.”
So it looks like he’s done it again. Given me the perfect gift. A jet stream of water up my rump is the best way of saying “I love you.”