For the most part Jenny and I knew everything there was to know about each other. We’re pretty open about our insecurities, loves, and when we poop. One thing we haven’t seen yet is each other’s poop. Jenny has seen me vomit and I have seen her pee once when she forgot to flush. As far as poop goes, we might still one day be blown away by each other. This is how you keep a love fresh. Leaving a little mystery allows you to yearn for something; in this case, poop.

Although we’ve been technically married for only a week, not much has changed. Really, marriage started officially as soon as Jenny moved in at the beginning of November. Since then, the one constant I believe we have learned is that we’re stuck with someone really weird for the rest of our lives.

I mean, we could get divorced. It’s not like you’re ever obligated to stay in a marriage until a vagina poop (baby) comes out. Even then you could always find a way out like faking your death or insisting your family is invisible whenever they ask you questions.
Admittedly, I am pretty weird. Jenny is rather strange too. Thankfully, it’s nothing too dangerous we carry with us. Our weirdness compliments each other, I think.

An example of Jenny’s weirdness, just moments ago, she turned to me, grabbed my face, and then said “Ohhh someone’s freshly shaved.” Then, in a disturbing baby voice, said “Baby’s butt! Baby’s butt! Baby’s butt!” while rubbing my face. Fortunately, she had no idea I was writing a Bee Blog about how odd we are, together.

As far as my weirdness goes, I can’t really give any specific examples since everything I do is normal for me. I guess it’s somewhat strange that I walk to work rather than take a bus even in bad weather. I also despise people watching me eat or seeing my shins. To sum it all up, there’s just something about being around other people that grosses me out.

It’s an American mentality in some ways to avoid people as much as I do. For instance, on the train a few weeks ago, Jenny thought I was a real bastard for not making room in a three-seater for another person to sit beside me. Only because there were about a dozen other people in the train car who purposefully placed their bags on the seats beside them was I saved from Jenny hating me completely for being an antisocial American. This is more of a cultural difference than anything else. Back in the Philippines a woman on a jeepney even poked me in the eye. At the time, I thought it was a mistake. Now, looking back at it, I think she was just getting as close as possible to ensure there was enough room for the next passenger.

Often, Jenny and I will watch Very British Problems on Netflix. I’m amazed at how much I relate to it. All the social awkwardness and hatred of existing, it’s like they’re talking about me!

In the end, I think Jenny and I are a normal penis penis (she gets what this means). Like everyone, we’re just a little different from what many will think as normal.
And before you think I used the word poop too much here, you should hear Jenny’s wedding vows.