I was never juvenile in terms of finding swearing or slightly risqué things funny. I still have difficulty with euphemisms and slang because I never paid attention to such things (or watched any shows with sex-humor).
Sometimes I get tickled though. Sometimes I think to myself "I can make this work-in-progress say arse!" Then I have a good chuckle, then I have a good chuckle every time I think about it for the next month. This is, how you say, coping.
For all the sadness and heartbreak I feel, even on a daily basis, I don't have regrets. Well, other than being a picky eater for a large part of my childhood. I regret not eating more tasty things, but I never want to lessen my heartache because that would lower my happy memories in turn.
So now I amuse myself with accidental swearing and try to learn to numb my mind on the worst days.
This is all rather melancholy, given that I've been at the beach with La Madre all week, with great weather and good food. There are reasons, but they belong to me.