If you don’t know that I can’t be with someone who says “If you don’t know that ____, then we can’t be together,” then we can’t be together.
I told my wife that if, when I unload the dishwasher, all the plastic bowls and cups are flipped upward and are filled with boiling dirty water, and the flatware is caked with hardened food, then that is exactly how I’m loading them into the cupboard.
Guess who gets fussed out about the cupboard being loaded the wrong way…
If you don’t know that very few things actually matter, then we can’t be together.
If you don’t know that of the very few things that matter really don’t matter very much, then we can’t be together.
Hah! I’m loving the responses to this, even the ones which vilify me as some type of relationship-challenged meta-asshole.
I am fully aware that small things which annoy are proxies for larger issues. I even know what those issues are!
If you don’t know that our constant squabbling is a proxy for a larger issue, and won’t acknowledge it when I try to talk about it, then we can’t be together.
If you don’t know that other people’s interests are not actually dumb, but just outside your realm of interests, then we can’t be together.
See, the dishwasher thing goes like this. She’ll literally cram everything in there in a haphazard and non-caring way. Dishes stacked on top of one another, cups upside down, forks still stuck to the caked-on tomato sauce in the bowls. Blah blah blah. Doesn’t matter right? It’s just another way of doing things? Like how leaving messes around for weeks on end is just another way of doing things? I prefer to think of it as someone being a slob, who doesn’t care about themselves, or the people around them, or the things which took money to buy. So after the dishes come out dirty, and get put away dirty, with sighing and groaning and huffing, I see a problem.
“Hey hun, you having trouble there? Want me to help?”
“No, the stupid dishwasher doesn’t work.”
Me, looking at the unloaded dishes and seeing the problem. “Maybe it’s because those two bowls are stacked on top of each other.”
“No, I loaded it fine. Don’t tell me what to do.”
Me, recognizing the underlying emotional turmoil, but not knowing what it is yet. “OK. Sorry. Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”
“No, nothing’s bothering me. I’m fine. Stop being such a control freak.”
Mental note to myself - “Again…really? My cue to find a way out of this marriage…”
Since this kind of crap happens all the time, in many different aspects of our relationship, to degrees much worse and much less than this, I’ve determined to either find a new way to cope and try to coax the good out of her, or to find a way to leave without too much negative fallout.
I stopped getting angry, yelling, and flailing myself around much earlier in life. Like after I found my father dead on the living room floor. And after my grandparents divorced at 70 years of age. And after my first wife left me so that she could get away from her family and her faith. And after I realized that having a bad attitude doesn’t really help anything ever…
I assure you, I’ve had my share of real grown up problems. And I have my own way of coping with them. And I know what I need to do to fix them right here right now, but I’m also aware that life sometimes surprises you, and given enough time, some things will work themselves out. And things like marriages are worth a little extra time and effort. And I also realize that a little more due diligence on my part in choosing my wife before our marriage would have avoided a lot of this…but sometimes you really do have to touch the stove to know that it’s hot.
So in the meantime… pointing out my partner’s flaws in a style like this is kind of fun, and makes me feel justified, because it reduces them to their most basic black and white concepts, and ignores all the *actual *issues behind them. Kinda makes it like we’re back in kindergarten, and after we come back inside from recess everything will be OK again.
And when I turn it back around on myself, I actually realize things about ME that are worth changing.
See? Little clearer now? You may all proceed to my Relationship and Dishwasher Loading Reeducation seminar. 
If you don’t understand that I often need to work on my art for several uninterrupted hours . . . then we can’t be together.
This is one of the reasons why I love *Sunday in the Park with George, *especially “Finishing the Hat.” Sondheim nailed it.
If you don’t know that you already do this in your mind, unconsciously, every time you look at a person who may be eligible relationship material, then we can’t be together.
+1
:d
This part is not so cool. Okay, “not sexually appealing”, fine. But don’t ask us to desist from farting altogether, and certainly don’t blame us for farting. Would you blame someone with cancer (on radiation treatment) for their bald pate?
It’s a bodily function, like any other. We don’t fart just to bother you. In fact, we’d rather not fart at all. But we can’t help it. Get over yourself.
HAHAHA! I love the immediate self-defense. Having a gas problem?
Yeah, we all fart and burp. But you gotta admit…it’s not exactly a turn on. Usually it’s a turn off. Especially when it resembles a tuba. And so someone being mad because the sexual feelings may have left the room when the foul smelling ass-gas entered is pretty childish.
Is this whole thread a whoosh?
People honestly argue about this shit? It’s got to be a symptom of a larger problem.
“Hey Honey, it works best in the dishwasher to load it this way” Problem solved.
And OP. I had NO idea what you where talking about with the dishwasher either.
If you frame all debates in extremes of trifling minutiae versus world-shattering tragedies not only should we not be together, we probably shouldn’t be in the same room.
But this is all in good fun right? This thread seems bound for the pit at which point all hell might break loose.
My girlfriend didn’t like how I loaded the dishwasher. She said “leave the dishes in the sink I’ll take care of them.” I said “OK.”
Problem solved.
I think he’s in a relationship with one of those, “The woman is always right” women. I don’t like them much - they make things so much harder for the rest of us normal women.
There are certainly ways to fix those issues (or work with them). The toilet paper thing? Person who changes the roll chooses. Squeezing toothpaste from the tube wrong? Everybody gets their own tube.
Except in Egypt, for six hours.
Band name! 
Uggh.
The fucking dishwashing machine shit. If you load one way and I load the other and with either method the fuckers still come out clean shut the fuck up about it
I rarely load the dishwasher anymore.
I haven’t even got a dishwasher.
No doubt this means I can’t be with anyone who has got one
Say what now? Do you seriously believe this, or is it just what you tell yourself? That sentence screams delusion. The dishwasher issue is starting to pale, you should quit while you’re ahead, I think!
You must not do any of these if you want to be together:
Smoke
Vote Republican
Say “Gotcha”
You must know the following differences:
You, your, you’re
To, too, two
There, their, they’re
So I take it we won’t be hearing about you and the “Cancer Man’s” upcoming nuptules anytime soon ? 
Interestingly, when someone insists early in that they are not a “domineering control freak” it’s usually time to pull the ripcord and hit the silk because you are most assuredly dealing with domineering control freak.
If either one of us, have the luxury of an automatic dishwasher,
yet feel the need to control how the other one loads it, then we can’t be together.
If you are domineering, and anal enough to find ways
to force me to abide by your rules-concerning the petty details in life- then we can’t be together.
If you expect me to never fart, burp, and to be sexually appealing to you all the live long day,
then we can’t be together; and you need to move in with a blow up doll.