I love you to death and will never forget all you’ve done to be a wonderful partner and help raise our child to be a perfect kid.
But… could you fucking listen a little more closely and not ask me the exact same question to the answer I just gave you? When I share a story or event from the day with you and then you turn around and bring it up like I never mentioned it, it kinda drives me nuts.
Me: I talked to Steve today and he and Julie can make it Friday.
You: Okay. I need to call Mom & Dad later. Oh, by the way did you talk to Steve about Friday?
Me: Aaaaaaaarrrrrggghhhhhh!
Where on EARTH did you go to? You are not “you” anymore. Where did the affection, attention and appreciation go? No! The fact that “you’re here aren’t you” is NOT equal to an “I Love You”. Grrrr!!! WAKE UP!!! Stop taking me for granted!!!
Now, I’m not asking for some huge ridiculous romantic gestures, I just would like things to be the way they USED to be.
Some flirting here and there, fun, talking, affection. (and what happened to all the great love-making eh? I thought guys never lost interest in that?).
I realize that losing weight is hard work, and that you’ve “got a lot of things on your mind” and that you’re tired. But you don’t need to have such an “all or nothing” attitude regarding my needs. Not to mention, um that’s life honey! It’s always going to be something. Life is never going to fall into some perfect neat little box where everything runs smoothly forever and ever amen. If you keep waiting for THAT to happen, sheesh…
If you’re tired you’re tired. But you’re mistaken in thinking I need some giant Fred Astaire/Ginger Rogers production that will take tons of your time and energy. A simple smile, maybe show some interest in things I say once in a while, an affectionate gesture once in a while.
A thank you now and then. Some appreciation for the things I do maybe?
Sweetie. Sugar. Love My Life. I have just one small request. Ok, two small requests.
In the morning, when I need to be out of the house by 8, could you please be ready to go by 8? When you are 15 minutes late, that makes me 15 minutes late, and I can’t be late. I have meetings and classes and work, and it’s pretty mandatory that I’m on time to all of these things. So when I suggest you get the lead out of your ass, could you please just move faster? Please? I just can’t even understand why it takes you so very long to get ready.
I don’t like the cats. The cats are yours. I tolerate the little beasts because you love them and occasionally they are cute. So that means it is your responsibility to clean the cat litter, which means you need to do it more than once a week, and it means you should do it without being told. It’s disgusting and the smell makes me sick. I know you can’t smell anything, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us has to suffer. It’s always been your job and it will always be your job, so just do it already!
No we are not getting a Mercedes station wagon- ain’t ever happening no matter how much you hint around. Nor one of the new Audi wagons. Call me frugal- but you know I won’t buy a car where the first number of the price is a 3 or higher. It would also be nice if I did have to be the financial reality meter in the house too. I like that you have fun dream things to do or buy, but for once could you say nahh that’s too much money. Try it.
But seeing I am 99.5% happy with my marriage- I will never actually say this stuff.
Jorel! My husband does that- I call it growling. When he catches himself doing it, he’ll increase the volume and add some loud “AAAAARRGH…GROG LIKE!” comments. That’s how I know the food is good.
Eh, I spent two hours pitting him on the phone yesterday, I’m out of energy.Then I decided that he was right after all, but I will never, ever tell him that.
Pepperlandgirl, these cats wouldn’t by any chance drive you crazy by running over your head and your ass while you’re sleeping, would they? If so, I think “our” SO is two-timing (or he has a clone . . . )!
Dear sweetie, I’d still love you went bald, gained 100 lbs, or decided you need to wear women’s clothes. However, I can not live with that thing growing on your face. Please please please, shave it off. I’d like to kiss you again some day.
Running over my head and ass, sleeping my my chest, pouncing on my face, growling and fighting with each other, begging for attention at 4:00 in the morning.
I will not kill the cats, I will not kill the cats, I will not kill the cats…
Honestly I don’t have much of a reason to Pit my fiance. The only thing I could think of is a gripe about some of her family members (nothing recent and nothing really bad), and thus she wouldn’t be included.
