Friday, 13 February 2015
Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. Boy meets boy. Girl meets girl. Lesbian. Gay. Straight. Transgendered. Bisexual. It doesn’t matter. Love is love.
And when love is in the air, the magic of what that means abounds. Everything for the new couple is coming up sunshine and roses, without a hint of the scent of manure required to help make those roses blossom. That is, of course, until the first time someone in the relationship tells the other to go fuck themselves. Once it’s said, just like with the first kiss, you can never quite recreate that moment. When one person magically says to the other “Go fuck yourself!” for the first time, the expression transforms with each use, garnering a different meaning whether one week into the relationship or after 10 years of commitment have passed. “Go fuck yourself” undergoes an evolutionary process through the natural course of your co-dependency, as does love. And, no matter how you say it, when you say it, or where you say it, one thing remains true: you can’t spell ‘love’ by telling your significant other to “go fuck yourself” from time-to-time.
Here’s my “go fuck yourself” guide to help you navigate these turbulent waters, so that you don’t mistake its use as a sign of your relationship falling off a cliff, and do something rash, like break up:
Nothing spells longevity than the first time you tell your partner to “go fuck yourself.” It’s new. It’s novel. It’s fresh. If you’re the giver of this gift, you embrace the catharsis that comes with it. And, if you’re on the receiving end, you are agog and aghast, but know that soon, it will be your turn to return the favor.
Maybe this is a sign of things to come. Perhaps this is the red flag telling you to get out while you still can. Don’t panic and hit the eject button. This is normal behavior. Remember, nothing beats hearing “go fuck yourself” for the first time. It’s almost orgasmic.
By now, you’ve exchanged “I love yous” on more than one occasion. The next time a “go fuck yourself” bomb will likely drop is several months into the relationship. Wait, who am I kidding? If you’re going to use it once, it’s like eating chips, you can’t just say it just one time.
Once the safety of love has enveloped you as a couple, one of you will be emboldened to let your freak flag fly, which will most likely garner a “go fuck yourself” from the more vanilla partner. When you hear your partner tell you that they want to get kinky in your Helsinki, whether that be inserting a body part into your tush, your mouth, or your ear (a chacun son gout), feel free to tell them where to go (and where you hang your “Exit Only” signs). You may love each other and fear that telling your loved one where to go while naked and in the throes of passion will be a huge turn on, but in all honesty, six months is not that long of a period of time, so you likely don’t know each other as intimately as you think you do. If your Boo Bear suddenly tells you, “I really want to stick my big toe in your ass,” you have my permission to say: Go fuck yourself!
By now, the honeymoon phase is so long gone that it isn’t even a speck in the rear-view mirror of your relationship. You’ve lost count by now at how many times either one of you has told the other to “go fuck yourself.” Maybe, you’re even used to telling each other to “go fuck yourself” more often than saying “I love you,” but hey, don’t worry, you’ve been together a year, and nothing is a better predictor of the future and endurance of a relationship than how much abuse one partner can hurl at the other. I mean, if you can’t curse out your best friend and lover, who can you tell off? Those who swear together, are tethered forever.
You’ve met the in-laws, so you know the f-bomb has dropped more times than you care to remember. Like that time when you first met your future father-in-law, and over dinner he remarked about you, while nudging his spawn: “Whoa there, eat any faster and you’ll eat through my wallet. You found a live one with a good appetite!”
I’m willing to bet a good “go fuck yourself” came through your gritting teeth when your soon-to-be-spouse failed to stand up to daddy.
Perhaps you’ll find yourselves parenting a young life by some means or another. Either way, this a banner “go fuck yourself” milestone. Whether it be in the labour and delivery suite—where mama is surely hurling expletives at her partner while feeling the burn of the ring of fire through her loins—or the first time you’ve been on the receiving end of feces exploding with G-force through the baby’s diaper, covering you from tip to toe with l’enfant terrible’s ejected bowel movement, if you hear a “go fuck yourself” or several launched in your general direction, please know it is well-deserved. If your vagina or stomach wasn’t torn in two either by the thrust of the baby’s head or surgical scalpel, or if you weren’t coated in crap, you have no right to object to being told off. Take the “go fuck yourself” in stride. You earned it. Trust me, “go fuck yourself” is a lifelong tennis game, so you’ll get your chance to serve up a few lobs. Three years in, and at least one baby later, no matter how many times either of you tells the other to “go fuck yourself,” there’s every reason to believe that your partner will always love you (cue Whitney Houston’s cover of the immortal ballad).
To be perfectly honest, if you’ve made it this far, chances are your relationship will make it to at least the seven-year itch mark, and hopefully beyond. But, if it doesn’t, don’t worry, many a relationship, far weaker than yours will have failed long before yours did, no matter whether you’ve exchanged vows or lived together in sin, had babies or only pets, or whether the in-laws are living or dead. So, go on, love each other without restraint and don’t be afraid to tell your partner to “go fuck yourself” now and then. It’s how you get through the “go fuck yourself” moments that will determine whether you and your partner are meant to be. For, it’s only a special, unyielding bond that one or many “go fuck yourselves” can’t break.
Author’s note: See the following article for my source of inspiration:
© 2015. Naomi Elana Zener. All Rights Reserved.