I love you, sweetheart, but SERIOUSLY

I love my SO. She’s great. But ARRRRGGGHHH!!!


Yes, of course you may wear my socks. But please do not walk outside to get the newspaper in them; don’t walk all over the cement and wear them out. If they are black on the bottom, I’m not going to be happy.


When you fill the coffee pot, it is NOT okay with me that you hold the coffee pot with one hand at the top, fingers spread like palming a basketball, balancing it over the kitchen floor - still plugged into the wall, mind you - reach precariously over to the sink to turn it on and grab the sprayer to squirt water into the water resevoir. The coffee pot was rattling around, threatening to fall on the ground and smash. I ask you - is this logical in ANY way?


The alarm clock has two alarms on it. You leave for work an hour before me. When YOUR alarm goes off, get up. Don’t hit snooze 10 times. Don’t roll over and say, “Hey, can I sleep ten more minutes??” Because that’s why we have 2 alarms…so I can sleep another hour!


If you can’t sleep at night, please do not wake me up and say, “I can’t sleep.” Lord knows, it gets boring in the middle of the night and I know you want company but come on. Once in a while, I’ll grin and get up with you but not 3-4 nights in a row. K?


If you EVER have to split up tools again in your lifetime, remember that someone can not get the ratchet thingy and someone ELSE the SOCKETS. They go together. And when I ask where the sockets are, the improper response is, “I told you, we split up the tools!”


Please don’t jump to conclusions. When I say, “I love Dolce and Gabbana! I love Isaac Mizrahi!” the improper response is “Don’t talk about other women - that’s rude!” Oh my God.


Please. No dutch oven. No covered wagon.


I don’t like cats. Specifically, I don’t like your cats. That would be “Baby Boy” - who I have renamed “Barfallover” or “Finnegan/Finnah”…I call her Finnah-key or “Pissallover.” I’m allergic to cats and they only bring me misery. Is it not enough that I live with them?? Must I love them as well? And empty the litter box daily, just like you like it done. Don’t assume I’ll do it because I won’t. Take some responsibility for the cats. Oh - and when one of them happens to release a chocolate hostage…pick it up right when you notice it.

Phew. I feel better.


Dude, what’s a covered wagon? Something different from dutch oven?

I might be missing fun with farts. This will not do!

“Chocolate hostage”???

Ok–these are all pretty valid (especially the alarm thing, my ex used to do that to me and it drove me insane), with a single exception.

Sorry, but I can’t help thinking that if you feel THAT strongly about proper coffee production, you could do it your damn self. As far as the sock thing goes, you do realize that it’s your fault in the end don’t you? Every time a woman moves in with a man his socks immediately eat all of her socks–thereby forcing her to appropriate his. It’s a scientific fact.



I believe I mispoke. She held the coffee MAKER with one hand with the coffee pot rattling around inside it. My DAMN self normally makes the coffee.

And I am not a man. And she didn’t move in WITH me - we moved into a place together. I’m female.

I hope that clears up any confusion that my damn self created.


get on with your damn self! I wasn’t trying to upset you, just making an observation. The way I read it, she was making the coffee and you were objecting to her method, in which case suggesting you do it yourself seems perfectly valid. You say you normally do, and I guess I can see why. [sub]cough cough coffee nazi cough [/sub]
As for you being female, that does throw a little wrench into my sock theory. Perhaps further research is necessary into the possible cannibalistic tendancies of girly socks. :slight_smile:

Seriously though, no offense was intended by suggesting you were male. I simply made an assumption I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry. I promise not to do it again if you promise not to put my name in your “dopers to hunt down and eviscerate” list, deal?


I totally understand Tiburon’s objections to the coffee maker’s endangerment. To the true coffee fiend, there is no sound more horrifying than a crash and an “Uh-oh.” Particularly if it happens in the morning.

The sex and companionship better be pretty darn spectacular!

#2 indicates carelessness (who holds the coffee machine with one hand?)

This is just so wrong in so many ways. As a gay man, I can tell you it’s a cardinal sin not to know what the firm Dolce and Gabbana is, not that I can afford to buy their clothes (and Isaac Mizrahi is history).

Two, that “don’t talk about other women” indicates a level of insecurity that would have me rethinking the relationship. My BF and I are always checking out hot guys on the Metro or at the store, which is hilarious because we have wildly different tastes. “You like THAT! He’s too blonde, ew.”

#3 and #4 are fixable.

The cat thing will just take a bit of adjustment.

#5 is unforgivable. Your relationship is doomed!

Hmmmmm. You may have a point here Fionn. Me, I wouldn’t drink coffee if I was dying of thirst but somehow, I’m still the one who ends up making the vile stuff.
[Freudian accent] Aha! Zee problem iz showing itzelf [/F.a.]

This concludes today’s episode of Projection Theatre, please come again.


I once read (no cite, sorry) about two old people who said their reason for a long relationship (60 years or so) was due to each one having created a list of 10 things that bothered them about the other person. This list then were the things they would overlook because they so loved the other. AAAAWWW…

You obviously have quite a bit of patience and tolerance Tiburon. Have a word with said SO about these things that are bothering you, especially the cats.

Dutch ovens and covered wagons? Is she into Little House on the Prairie living, or is this just a one off camping experience?

What about getting 2 alarms?

Other items mentioned just need to be worked on.

Much luck in getting things sorted.

Hey, belladonna, I was giggling when I wrote that. I’m not offended at all. Thank you for taking that well, - I do appreciate it. :slight_smile: And I’ll even make you coffee next time you’re in town (and I promise the water won’t be from the sprayer…that sort of grosses me out for some reason!).

I truly do love her very much. I just can’t fathom her methods sometimes. More often than not, I laugh about it. But when she literally PILES dishes in the dishwasher instead of standing them up in slots - well, come on. That just makes me downright worry.

Went to the doc today. Samples of Zyrtec, Zyrtec D, Clarinex, more Allegra D, nasonex…I must love her because I sure don’t like what the cats do to me.


Hey there, Washte,

Neat idea with the 10 items. A dutch oven or covered wagon is when someone farts in bed and then pulls the covers over your head so that you’re forced to sme…well, you get it now.

The two alarms idea is good except that she never hears her alarm. She sleeps right through it so most of the time I have to nudge her and say, “That’s your alarm!”

Thank you for the well wishes. :slight_smile:

my wife does the sock thing. puts mine on then walks around outside in them!

she is also famous for leaving Dr. Pepper landmines around the house. these are half-full cans left on sofa arms, half-hanging over the side of the counter or otherwise ready to be spilled at the slightest provacation. i found on propped against my pillow one day. she was typing in bed and fell asleep with it there :open_mouth: !

she also is unable to grasp the concept of saran wrap or cling film. the stuff we have will seal any leftover tightly on any plate we have in the house with one piece. yet, when she is left to kitchen duty, i find a dried out piece of steak or whatever on a plate the next day with two pieces of this stuff laying on the top, not clinging to anything :smiley:

aw, what the hell, i love her anyway! (but i hate her cats)

There is nothing “secret” or “special” about 1,000 island dressing.

Jesus, gatopescado…it’s like we live dual lives…

Substitute diet coke for dr. pepper…and stay with the saran wrap story and the cat opinion…shit, we’re almost dating clones.


::slinging arm around Tib’s shoulder and singing in a warbly voice::

People, people who neeeeeeed peopllllleee…