Reverse

"Will you marry me?" Roger says matter of factly, catching me off guard, because who expects to be proposed to in the plumbing section of Home Depot with a bald dude three feet away in an orange apron tied at the waist stocking copper couplings? Could it be Roger can't contain his primal instincts to lock me down after I discussed at length the pros and cons of PVC Pipe versus PEX Pipe riding slightly above the speed limit on the ride here; one arm slung over the steering wheel in the left lane on 495, border line tailgating the Ram 3500 in front of me? After all, we have only been dating for three months and my first reaction is to ask him if he is joking because he has this way of making inappropriate jokes at inappropriate times, which I like; sometimes, to a point, but also makes me alternately question if he's "the one" or just a fuck buddy.

Like when he said on our first date; and neither one of us had taken more than three sips of our PBR, "My mother died of cancer last week but that's okay I've got another one."

"Oh. I'm so sorry." I said with grievous eyes looking right at him. "But what do you mean by you've got another one?"

"Just kidding. I just wanted to see if you were paying attention." He replied, and I 'bout spit my beer out laughing, deciding right then and there I was going to go home with him, and between you and I, his personal plumbing did not disappoint, if you know what I mean.

And then two weeks into seeing him, he meets one of my girls, Sheila, for the first time at Jimmy's where we like to hang after work and he says, "Hey," to her, shaking her hand feverishly making her shoulders hit her ears, catching one of her dangly silver earrings on her sweater, and then he blurts, "You might want to wash your hands. I just took a dump and there was no soap in the men's room." That one I didn't like much at all, apparently neither did my friend Sheila. The proof was in her deadpan face.

"WTF do you see in him?" She texted the next day. Somewhat embarrassed, I sent her a poop emoji back next to a laughing face, and I haven't heard from her since.

So what would you do, when a guy like Roger asks you to marry him with shower heads and toilets stacked at eye level and Behr paint cans shaking random colors one aisle over? Should I assume this proposal is just another one of his "got ya" jokes, or is this thing we've got going the real deal, like in a "till death do us part" real deal? And if he is serious, am I? Will I tire of his so called humor and find myself out shopping for a new guy that knows how to stick his funny bone in reverse on a dime to oblige my primal instincts? So I think to myself why don't I do what Roger does when it suits his own prerogative and conjure up a "got ya" joke of my own to throw him off guard. This way if he is only joking about the proposal, no foul, and if he isn't, it should bide me some time.

"I'm sorry Roger but I can't marry you."

"Why?" He asks, and he looks seriously dejected and I think, "Oh shit he's serious."

"Why, you ask? Okay why? I'll tell you why," half smiling like my answer might be a joke, because maybe it is and maybe it isn't, damn if I know, and I can see the hopeful anticipation reflecting off his teeth as he waits for my answer, but I'm totally drawing a blank with a comeback punchline. Maybe it's because I just don't share his talent for quick wit, or maybe I don't totally embrace it, I don't know, when suddenly the shiney new toilet I'm staring at right in front of me, reminds me of something I noticed in his bathroom and I decide to dump it on him.

"Why. Because you hang your toilet paper with the loose end hanging inside next to the wall, and if you ask me, that just ain't right." And the guy in the orange apron looks up at me and nods a definitive "that's what's up girl" at me. It is perfectly clear in this moment, neither I, nor Roger can extract any shred of humor from my words, simultaneously understanding, "This relationship isn't gonna work."

Lets face it. I'm not that funny and besides, no one can find the humor in a till death do us part life burdened by the constant reversal of toilet paper rolls. Am I right?