The Granny Panties Theory of Love

The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.— Carl Jung

.........................................

Relationships. The closest things we have to alchemy in this world. Mix the right elements together, and something magical can bloom. But get the proportions wrong, and you’ve got a volatile chemical spill on your hands.

I’ve weathered my fair share of romantic mishaps and calamities over the years. From the flameouts to the fizzles to the dramatic conflagrations that burned so brightly they seared my soul.

And through each sputtering burst of love and longing, I’ve gathered a few kernels of wisdom to sustain me.

Some insights have come from well-meaning friends who clearly knew better. Others from therapists, self-help books, and a parade of exes who unknowingly revealed the flaws in my approach as we stumbled down romance’s pockmarked road.

But the best relationship advice?

That came from an unlikely source — my cranky, chain-smoking, existentially confused Uncle Larry.

It was Thanksgiving 2012, and the family had gathered at my parent’s place for the annual bacchanalia of overeating and nitpicking each other’s life choices.

In between matches of arguing about politics and lobbying turkey-carved insults, Uncle Larry pulled me aside with a conspiratorial look in his rheumy eyes.

“Hey kid,” he wheezed in a gravelly Brooklyn accent. “You dating anyone these days? Nah, don’t answer that. I can see it in your face — you’re lonely as a snowman in July.”

I tried to object, but Uncle Larry raised a nicotine-stained hand. “Save it. I got something to tell ya that’s gonna change your damn life.” He glanced around furtively before leaning in close enough for me to smell the Pall Mall and Aqua Velva wafting off him.

“Here’s the secret to a great relationship, and it’s the only advice that really matters: Don’t take things so damn serious all the time!”

He sat back with a satisfied grunt, as if he’d just revealed the combination to Fort Knox. I must have looked skeptical because he launched into a rant that was half pep talk, half bizarre motivational speech.

“Listen up, Picasso! When you’re with someone, you gotta laugh. At yourself, at them, at the ridiculous circus of life! You can’t be getting all bent outta shape every time little things go wrong. You mess up? So what? Make a joke about it! Your partner screws up? Give ’em a hard time, but in that loving ribbing kinda way, y’know?”

Uncle Larry took a long drag off his cigarette, then continued through a smoky haze.

“My Edna, God rest her soul, she used to do the funniest things. Once, we’re getting ready for a night in the town — I’m putting on my best suit, and she’s putting on the Ritz in this fancy new dress of hers. Well, she comes outta the bedroom, and the zipper is stuck halfway down the back. Her hair’s all done up nice, makeup perfect, but the dress is hanging open and her big ol’ granny panties are just hanging right out for the world to see!”

He broke into a wheezing cackle at the memory. “Well, instead of getting all embarrassed, you know what she did? She struck a pose like some pinup model and said ‘Like what you see, big boy?’ Then she gave me a wink and one of those looks, you know the type…” Uncle Larry raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“We both just lost it laughing! Couldn’t stop for ten minutes straight. I had to pick her up off the floor, she was crying from it. And when we finally got ourselves together, I just gently zipped her up, gave her a kiss, and off we went to paint the town.”

A wistful smile crept across his craggy face.

“That’s what I’m talking about, kiddo. Don’t take the little stuff so serious. If you can laugh together about the weird, awkward, human moments, that’s the secret right there. It’s like a release valve on all the pressure. You don’t sweat the small missteps, you just blow it off with some jokes and keep on trucking, closer than ever.”

Uncle Larry stabbed his cigarette butt into the ashtray decisively.

“So whenever things get too heavy in your next relationship, I want you to remember Edna and her granny panties. If you can giggle about the goofy stuff together without anybody getting all bent out of shape, you’re gonna make it, kid. That’s my wisdom for ya.”

As he shuffled off in search of another beer and whatever argument had broken out in the living room, I mulled over his peculiar advice. At that moment, it did seem to contain a profound truth about the importance of cultivating humor and not taking yourself too seriously.

Could it really be that simple? Just…laugh more?

If you’ve found Uncle Larry’s relationship insights as valuable as I have, Buy Me A Coffee to keep the wisdom flowing: buymeacoffee.com/kaydee

In the decade-plus since, I’ve had my share of relationships that put Uncle Larry’s theory to the test. Some crashed and burned despite my attempts at incorporating more levity. (Maybe I took the jokes about my partner’s questionable taste in music a smidge too far…)

But the ones that lasted, the loves that evolved into something deep and sustainable, all seemed to have one ingredient in common — we could laugh. At ourselves, at the pratfalls of life, at the bizarre detours, our adventures would take us on.

Like the time my college girlfriend and I got trapped at a remote ranch in New Mexico after the axle on our rickety moving truck snapped in half.

We spent three hysterical, headache-inducing days in that desert, fending off amorous ranch dogs while waiting for the tow truck that never came.

At one point, we just started wailing Johnny Cash tunes at the top of our lungs and doing dramatic vocal improvisations about our harrowing plight, because what else was there to do?

By the time we finally got hauled out of there, we were delirious from laughter and heat exhaustion.

Or my more recent stint with a free-spirited slam poet, where our first “real” date involved a spontaneous trek to track down what she swore was “the most insane thrift shop of all space and time.”

It turned out to be some dusty junk shop in a strip mall, where we ended up in a giggling fit over some of the unintentionally creepy porcelain doll displays. We left empty-handed but with a strange inside joke about the haunted ceramics that followed us for years after.

These memories bubble up through the rubble of countless mundane arguments, tedious responsibilities, and logistical nightmares that inevitably bog down any long-term partnership.

But in the moments when one of us would start giggling or making dumb jokes, it was like a release valve went off. The tension would drain away, replaced by a sublime silliness and connection that said: “Yeah, life is absurd sometimes, but we’re in this weird circus together.”

It’s the shared laughter, the ability to not take everything fatally seriously, that transforms the grind of cohabitation into something transcendent.

You can survive the occasional dual food poisoning incident or disastrous relative visit if you can laugh about it afterward. Blow a raspberried fart noise at each other and say “Better out than in!” Heck, even cleaning up vomit is tolerable if it’s accompanied by dramatic retellings and ridiculous impersonations.

So while communication, commitment, and all the usual ingredients are important for lasting love, Uncle Larry was definitely onto something.

Keeping a reservoir of humor, of the ability to make each other laugh even when circumstances seem bleak, goes a long way toward making a relationship not just endure but thrive.

Soften against life’s sharp edges by seeing the absurdity in them. Don’t get so deadly serious and heavy that you can’t lock eyes and dissolve into giggles over some innocuous inanity.

Because at the end of the day, despite society shoving romantic ideals about soul mates and eternal passion in our faces, a good relationship is really about muddling through the beautifully human mess together. It’s sharing the unvarnished, ridiculous moments that make you real partners in crime.

If you can laugh at the time you scorched the mac and cheese into an inedible hockey puck or got hopelessly lost in the middle of nowhere because SOMEONE misread the map, you’re already most of the way there.

The ability to shrug off life’s irritants and follies with humor is the lubrication for a long, joyful run.

To paraphrase the wistful words of Uncle Larry (who, despite his crass edges, always played the romantic at heart):

“If you can cackle together at some granny panties hanging out, you’re gonna make it through the tough stuff just fine, kiddo.”