I’ve been accused, in my life, of being sort of prim. I get grossed out by people chewing conspicuously, so you can imagine my disgust regarding the end of the digestive system. Needless to say, I have never been, nor ever will be, a “bathroom door open” type of girl. Anything that goes on in there — from fingernail clipping to shaving to closely inspecting a pimple — should happen well away from the eyes and ears of a romantic partner. A (loud) fan in the bathroom is a necessity: if I get rich one day, I plan to install a private bathroom in a separate wing of the house.

Related: 10 Things You Shouldn’t Do Until You’re “Exclusive”

But Emily McComb’s essay on XoJane today, on being open with all her bodily functions with her boyfriend of 8 years, made me want to loosen up a bit. Sure, there were parts that made me cringe (I will never discuss the consistency of a bowel movement with a boyfriend, as long as I live, so help me god), but overall I appreciated the idea of getting to the point in a relationship where you love someone for the disgusting homo sapiens that he or she is, rather than some romantic ideal. There’s something very sweet in that.

As Emily put it,

“Right or wrong, I guess I’ll just content myself with the fact that I’m ready to grow old and incontinent together, and that when the ‘in sickness’ part of our vows kicks in — well, at least we won’t be ashamed to use a bed pan.”

Awww! Yes.

I mean, consider my bathroom door firmly and permanently locked. But maybe I oughta ease up with the chewing.

[I Hate What I've Become AKA A Person Who Farts In Front Of My Boyfriend]

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