Too comfortable

It was an extra classy dinner for a Saturday night: I'd saved up enough money to buy us a good meal, and I was flaunting a brand new tube dress.

If we weren't the epitome of elegance, we were damn close.

That is, until I got a splinter on the roof of my mouth.

How does that happen? Funny you ask. Actually, it's quite easy. All you have to do is eat an olive off a toothpick with a small sliver of wood sticking out of it.

The end result is one of the most miserable sensations possible. Miserable enough, in fact, to make me stick both my hands in my mouth to try to pull the splinter out.

Did I mention I was still sitting at the table? In a tube dress? With smooth jazz playing in the background?

Had it been a first date, I would have braved the pain in silence. But this was maybe our 234th meal together. I figured a little at-table splinter removal would be OK.

Then again, maybe I was wrong.

This piece describes what happens when you get so comfortable in a relationship that you let everything go -- proper manners, proper grooming, proper suppression of bodily functions.

I've always vowed to never let the comfort of relationship interfere with my appreciation for basic etiquette, especially when it comes to things like farting.

What about you?