My parents asked me kindly not to write about this. That’s how I knew it was worth sharing.

This weekend my entire family (significant others and baby nephew included) rented a house in Southampton for a friend’s  wedding.

When we arrived at the house, there was a moderately sized bottle of lube sitting on the kitchen counter.

A good ole bottle of 2-in-1 (massage AND play!).

Partially used.

My parents were the first to arrive at the house. Rather than move, hide, or throw out the lube, they chose to place a bag of cashews beside it.

Because that’s what you do when you see a random bottle of lube on your kitchen counter. You unpack your snacks.

(There’s a nut joke in here somewhere. Feel free to find it.)

Eric and I were the next to arrive at the house and encounter the lube. We could only assume it belonged to my parents, as they were the only people there before us. I’m not saying that either one of us was comfortable with this idea. We were not. We were very, very uncomfortable. Particularly Eric. He’s still sort of new here.

We didn’t have time to confirm the owners of the lube, however, because we were running late for the rehearsal dinner. So we shared a panicked and awkward “ohmygodohmygodohmygod” exchange and decided to never speak of it again. (Except during the entire car ride to dinner. And the walk from the car to dinner. And all of dinner.)

A few hours later, while Eric and I were at the dinner, Zack arrived at the house and immediately sent this to the sibling text chain:

Needless to say, Eric and I got a huge kick out of this.  As did everyone at the rehearsal dinner– because naturally, I thought it’d be hilarious to pass my phone around and tell the story to everyone at my table. (Note: these were acquaintances. I did not know these people well at all. Well…now I do).

I also informed the bride. Clearly, hours before her wedding, it was something she needed to know.

When we got home that night I decided I needed confirmation, so I casually confronted my parents. They swore the lube was there when they arrived.

And you know what? I believe them. Mainly because that’s something my dad would totally admit to. But also because I want to be able to sleep at night.

So thank you to Ramona, our Airbnb renter, for leaving us that personalized housewarming gift. Unfortunately, since this was a wholesome family vacation (and the walls were super thin), we had  no use for it.

Not wanting the thoughtful gift to go to waste, I did suggest it’d be fun to lube up the baby and watch him try to crawl across the hardwood floor.

No one agreed.

At the end of the weekend, we decided to leave the bottle of lube right where we found it. Because some other family should have the chance to see it, suspect one another, and die a little inside, just as we did.

We would never deny someone that opportunity.

We’re not monsters.

7 thoughts on “Lubegate 

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