Doug was 12 years older than I; because the nature of our relationship was such that we enjoyed mocking ourselves and each other - and because Doug never ACTED like an old man so there was never a doubt that we were playing - it was a regular topic of gently humorous torment. If he was annoyed about something minor, I'd say, "You kids get off my lawn!" Or I'd remind him that, when he was graduating from college, I was... 10. When I did or said something foolish, he'd lament the state of "kids these days." He'd also refer to himself as a cradle-robber.
The point is, we had fun with our age difference, as we did with everything else.
Those of you who know me, also know that I've never been a fan of "reality" TV. Doug, on the other hand, loved it. He liked to say that he watched shows like Survivor and Big Brother and The Amazing Race because they were fascinating from a social/psychological perspective.
I went ahead and let him believe (mostly) that I bought that story. I didn't, of course. But we made it an unspoken agreement: Doug agreed to pretend that he only watched them out of professional curiosity, and I agreed to pretend that I believed that. 😉
Four months after we started dating, Season 28 of The Amazing Race started airing, and Doug took to recording it so we could watch it together on the weekends. The cast that year included a father/daughter team: Dad was an OB/GYN from Texas, and Daughter was a YouTube star. It was clear that they had a great relationship, but there were times when it just seemed... weird. Like in Episode 2 when Daughter was selling kisses for pesos (something to do with a bus ride; I don't remember the details), and Dad acted almost a little jealous. Watching them together was sometimes reminiscent of watching Tobias Funke: you know what's being said isn't actually how you're hearing it, but it REALLY sounds somehow off. (Hilarious examples of Tobias and his unique way of expressing himself are HERE and HERE. Watch them; you won't be sorry.)
Anyway, by the end of the first episode we were already watching these two with one eyebrow raised, so anything that could be REMOTELY interpreted as off-color would send us into GALES of laughter. And she was so supportive, always cheering his meager and ineffective efforts: "You're doing great, Daddy!" "Good job, Daddy!" "You've got this, Daddy!" But then... then, we hit the motherlode. The statement so innocent-yet-oh-no-she-did-NOT-just-say-that. The ultimate gift that keeps on giving for a couple who created inside jokes as easily as we breathed air:
Father was trying to find something or build something, and he had to do it on his own (again, details are fuzzy). And it was NOT going well, as per usual. To encourage him, Daughter said it. She said the thing that put us over the top. She said, "You're doing such a GOOD JOB, Daddy."
People, we paused until we could stop laughing. And then we rewound it to watch again. And again. And again. We were CRYING with laughter. Because we knew: that simple little phrase would be the catalyst for more laughs over the course of our time together than probably anything else. Doug would pour me a cocktail? "You're doing such a GOOD JOB, Daddy." He'd grow some beautiful tomatoes in the garden? "You're doing such a GOOD JOB, Daddy." He'd go out to the store and come back with some little trinket or candy he thought I'd like? "You're doing such a GOOD JOB, Daddy." Funnier still was when I said it in response to him making some laughable mistake (say, opening one beer, and then putting it down, picking up an unopened beer and trying to pour it). "You're doing such a GOOD JOB, Daddy." And it was always said in my sultriest, sexiest voice.
And I warned him, the day we watched that episode: "You know, babe, it's just a matter of time. At some point, we're gonna be in bed getting jiggy wit' it, and I'm gonna say it. I mean, I HAVE to."
And so, MANY months later, when The Amazing Race had faded in his memory and he least expected it? I did just that. And it was GLORIOUS. If you think that good-natured laughter and sex are incompatible, I question your sense of humor and feel bad that you're missing out.
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