Help meeeeeeeeee

It’s been 5 months since I’ve been here (the SDMB). My life has become a confusing barrage changes. My wardrobe has gone from my bedroom floor to an actuale wardrobe, My sink is no longer full of dishes, Gone are the day’s and night’s constant game playing on a playstation, no more do I lay about half dressed drinking beer reading the SDMB, I can’t even smoke indoors, For I have moved in with my girlfriend. So let this be a warning to anyone who is thinking of doing the same, Say goodbye to the life you once knew, when the stuff you had was yours, now it’s OURS
OUR HOUSE (were renting, it’s not our fking house)
OUR CAR (it’s my f
king car)
OUR BED (if it’s our bed why does she take up most of it)
OUR CLOTHES (why I cant wear any of her’s)
OUR GARDEN (why do I have to mow the f**ker)
OUR FRIENDS (there not my friends)

So I think we should set up a kind of AA for men and women who have had their dailey lifes altered by the ones they love
Any takers

Welcome to married life. Yeah, you say you’re just “living together,” but you might as well be married. I’d tell you that it gets better except it doesn’t. You just get used to it. Some.

I asked my SO if he was ready for a relationship, meaning was he willing to accept all the changes, good and bad, comfortable and uncomfortable. There are a lot of changes and no, he can’t wear my clothes.

When I was in my late teens, I wanted to get married soooo badly that my bones ached. When in my twenties I wanted to get married so much that my balls ached and I day dreamed about what it would be like to have a loving wife, share a bed all of the time, actually have regular sex, and thought about children. In my thirties I decided I would settle just for living with a girl and having sex that would not give me a disease. When I hit my forties the burning, longing aches and urges diminished, and I’ve decided a long term affair is not worth the grief, the hassles, the getting into fights with unexpected boyfriends, the head games, the wounded pigeons, all of the bucks shelled out, the fights, the worries and so on. The good times seemed too few in comparison to the bad. I also realized I never wanted kids, especially infants that cry all night, catch every disease that goes around, the panic trips to the ER, panic trips to the doctor and the whole wad of bucks shelled out to keep the kid healthy and peeing on me. I watched married friends. I got the living crap scared out of me when one girlfriend announced that she was ‘with child’ and this with protection used, and I pictured my life turning into an 18 or 22 year nightmare. Then I discovered it was not my kid (love DNA tests) and I turned her over to the real father, who was not amused.

So, I’m a bachelor now, free to see whom I wish with no strings attached, set in my ways and comfortable with them without having anyone wanting to take down my nude pictures on the walls, wanting me to pitch out letters from old girlfriends, use pretty but awfully scratchy satin sheets on my bed, and disturbing me when I don’t want to be disturbed.

No arguments, no having to chase my ‘beloved’ down through the night because she stormed out, angary, not having to recall the song that was playing when we first met, and being able to keep all of my ugly collectibles on display and not hidden in a closet.

Yep. Free and single with a drawer by my bed full of rainbow rubbers, various oils and lubricants, a secret collection of momentos from a lost earring to happily given panties, my own bar built in and no kids.

Gee Cue, you sound like quite the prize.

40-ish, nudie pictures on the walls, ugly collectibles, a built in bar and a drawerfull of technicolor condoms.

I’ll bet those condoms are well past their expiration date, huh?

Well, to be fair, you probably couldn’t fit into them. And you have to admit that we look pretty cute in your baggy t-shirts. :wink:

The wounded pigeons?

Cue017, you should just stop asking the ladies to spray perfume on their crotches, and you’ll do fine. Oh, and we’ll be right with you. Buh-bye.

downforce, how’s life matey? No more Nocturnal MicroManiancs Sessions?? The horror! How’s life been treating you? I mean, othet than the fact that you’re completely pussified. :wink:

I second that wounded pigeons motion, WTF??

— G. Raven

Cue, have you ever seen the show “Family Guy”? Your post reminds of the Peter’s friend (Quagmire?). Complete with round velvet covered bed that vibrated. Oh, Yeah!

You could always use the two year old method of dealing with it:


Seriously, though. No everyone believes in the “our” concept. My husband and I have our own possesions, our own hobbies, and our own friends. We also have our own bank accounts in addition to a joint account, which is extremely important. She’s probably just all goofy excited over being together and likes the sound of “ours”. It makes you sound together, committed, and cozy.


Subscribe to Playboy for married men. Same centerfold all 12 months.

You drive-by Cue-ball shooters are just envious of our bachelor freedom. Not nice!

As a wounded-pigeon type myself, I WAG you mean those who become emotionally dependent. Or maybe you had an H. R. Haldeman-type girlfriend who liked to take pistol practice in her undies from the balcony?

Ah, yes. Now it makes sense.

Wounded pigeon relationships really suck.

From my own experience (hi there, downforce, did you have a thread going here or something?) I think emotional dependence is based on false (experiential, let’s say)premises, but the pain is real. It’s a hard tightrope to walk between being there for someone who’s in pain, and encouraging dependence- but I think humans are basically wired to depend on each other. I don’t think needing people is wrong; it’s the whole reason for relationship. But need me; I’m probably not going to become who you want me to be.

Our house-----well you both live there
Our car-----who’s name is it in
Our bed-----be thankful she’s there
Our clothes-----doesn’t she look cute wearing your oversized polo shirt as a nighty??? But I really don’t want to hear anything about you trying to wear hers please no just don’t go there
Our garden-----If it’s a garden let her plant her own flowers and as for the grass concrete the whole yard, that way you don’t have to cut grass
Our friends-----If you don’t like them just be nice to them and find friends that you do like
girlfriend who liked to take pistol practice in her undies from the balcony
the thoughts of that kinda turn me on
kinda sounds like my room
drawer by my bed full of rainbow rubbers, various oils and lubricants, a secret collection of momentos from a lost earring to happily given panties, my own bar built

Sharing clothes - one of the great advantages of being gay! Or Lesbian.

My boyf even has the same shoe size as me, and I now have (= am in the process of taking over ownership of) a great pair of Long Black Boots.

Also (I think it’s being over forty) neither of us ever storm out during the night, and the wounded pigeon problem has never even raised its ugly head.

But Cue, don’t give up on the relationships completely will you?

Downforce mate, good luck!

Rainbow rubbers - is that a gay pride thing?