I am a waitress at Lemongrass, an Asian fusion restaurant, and last week two people had sex in the bathroom. They both walked into the men’s room, locked the door and were in there for about 20 minutes before emerging with huge smiles on their faces and slightly disheveled hair.

It was, needless to say, the highlight of my night, and for the last couple of days I’ve been trying to figure out the circumstances of their relationship. You see, they were old (maybe late 40s to early 50s) and it would be hard to believe they were married if they were still that hot for each other. It seemed likely to me that they were having an affair. Because, aside from the sex, the guy ordered two bottles of wine and seemed to be working awfully hard to get his date a little tipsy.

This rather traumatizing event got me thinking about relationships. Just because I saw an older couple having a good time and actually enjoying each other’s company, why did I immediately have to assume that they were ditching their spouses for the night? Would it be that crazy or hard to believe that these two people, having been married for 20-plus years, were still very much in love?

Sitcoms have taught me that after a handful of years of married life, the wife becomes a nagging, petty little housewife, and the husband an alcoholic with an admirable ability to poke fun at life’s little foibles. I can’t help but worry that the portrayal of the average American married couple on TV has tainted me to the point where I can’t recognize a happily married couple when I see one.

My one-year anniversary is coming up and I’m still very much in love (though I cringe to actually admit it). I’ve always assumed that if my boyfriend and I stayed together for a long enough time, our fiery passion would be replaced with a mutual respect and understanding — still love, but a different kind.

But maybe I’m wrong. If the bathroom couple was, in fact, a married one, that would mean that not all married couples get sick of each other … which would mean that my life, if I choose to get married, is not necessarily doomed to become an “Everbody Loves Raymond” episode.

I would like to take a moment to say, thank you, bathroom couple — for giving me hope in a world full of cheap laughs and sarcasm. For letting me know that after 20 years of marriage (if you are in fact married) I might still have the urge to shtup my significant other in a restaurant off Vestal Parkway. Thank you for allowing me to question my relentless cynical attitude and dare to believe in love for 50-year-olds.

And finally, thank you, thank you, thank you(!) for breaking the toilet and giving me something to laugh at when I go to work.