I'd scratch yours.

When I was a little girl I used to walk up to my mom or dad sitting in the living room after dinnertime and often without saying a word, I'd just sort of flop onto their lap. In my family, this strange invasion of space articulated everything - specifically, "Back scratch, please."

Let me just lay it out there - I love having my back scratched. LOVE it. I remember asking a college boyfriend to scratch my back once. He looked at me momentarily confused and then asked, "Wouldn't you rather have a back rub?"

No. No, I would not.

Back rubs are great and all, but in my book there's a clear winner. Sure, there are similarities - both you can't really effectively do by yourself, both have poor substitutes that you can pick up at a drug store for under five dollars (give me a break with the wooden hand, seriously), and both result in a milder, more sedate Laura.

But for me, a back scratch is the more primitive, loving way to make someone's day a little bit more comfortable. And isn't that all we're looking for in each other, when it comes down to it? For someone to help us feel comfortable in our own skin and to listen and respond when we say "a little to the left?"

Oh, my. I think I've just described the perfect relationship.