On love and toilet paper

My husband is the sum of all that’s good in the world. He’s funny, smart, helpful around the house, incredibly thoughtful, generous…I could go on and on. He is wonderfully, annoyingly perfect. It’s quite disgusting.

Butt, he buys cheap toilet paper. (Did you catch that pun there? I kill myself!)

When we were dating, I recall visiting his apartment for the first time. It was clean, tidy, well kept. Even the guest bathroom was clean. (I suspect he tidied up for my benefit, but it wasn’t merely “bachelor clean.” It was real clean.) I did my business and reached for the toilet paper to find what can only be described as trench paper from World War I. It was single-ply and transparent, with chunks of sawdust scattered randomly throughout.

I thought to myself, from what war museum did he steal this toilet paper? Was there a fully dressed museum mannequin somewhere missing his toilet paper display? I felt almost guilty using it. I’d certainly never seen toilet paper like it before. Even rest areas and campgrounds have better TP than that! Aghast, I kept silent about my concerns, and dabbed the paper gingerly, hoping to avoid splinters. I prayed it was an anomaly.

It wasn’t. Rolls and rolls of WWI paper appeared and it seemed all hope was lost.

A few months later, as the relationship progressed, we were at the store when he bought toilet paper. It was literally the cheapest toilet paper they had. It was the sort of paper I always wondered about. Who buys this stuff? Do they not feel compassion toward their nether regions? When I saw that it was Ben, the most wonderful man I’d ever met, I wondered how it could be that someone like him could be so cheap about something so critical to quality of life.

Needless to say, once we started cohabitating, we had a talk about the TP situation. I may be cheap about many things, but I never scrimp on toilet paper. It’s a nonnegotiable. It’s Charmin Ultra Strong or Cottonelle (usually on coupon), and my husband is totally on board. Even he buys the good stuff now. He claims not to care, that he only buys it for my benefit, but I suspect he’s come over from the dark side. His backside can never go back.