Hah! Thank you for the laugh. I read through that list and I was like WTF? Car doors? Restaurant ordering order? Dirty laundry doesn’t even come into play before full reciprocal farting rights are agreed upon!
The toilet lid thing is a bit germaphobic for my sensibilities but I could comply because we all have our quirks. Unless you never leave your HEPA U17 sanitized home, let’s face it, there’s a lot worse in the world than your own micro-particles of aerosolized fecal matter. Sorry, probably not helping.
Toilet seats: There is NO “proper” position for the toilet seat. If it’s down and you want it up,put it up. If it’s up and you want it down, put it down. What is the effin’ problem?
When dating, if I felt the man required ‘training’ for me to be content with his daily habits and routines, I stopped seeing him. I’m not about to change someone. But as you know, there are always exceptions to rules. I am ready, able and willing to ‘train’ any SO in the bedroom. I don’t bark orders. I think there are gentle, loving, and sometimes amusing ways to get your messages across.
It really is something, isn’t it? It’s almost a work of art. A Mona Lisa of sexism. It’s sexist from all possible directions. It shimmers in the light, like a sexist diamond. With another sexist diamond inside it. And then one more inside of that.
Maybe we’re being toyed with here. I’ll give the OP this: If it’s a joke, it’s a good one.
Man what? I’m a guy, and I readily admit that I needed to be trained. Some guys are just social doofuses. I got yelled at a lot, and I learned.
It’s better than never learning social behaviour and being forever alone, pissing off your coworkers, all that. What, you think social graces are genetic or something? You have to learn these things somewhere, and some people just learn slower and later in life than others.
My problem with problem-solving is that unless the solver can wait until the end of the story, it makes it impossible for people to tell you their triumphs. I’m a problem solver myself (hell, I get paid for it) but I’ve made a point of learning to listen to the end, and also (since my mother will tell me things “not because I need you to know, but because I need to tell someone”) to learn how to ahum and ahem at the right spots while actually thinking about my laundry basket.
Someone had a problem, found a solution, is happy with the solution, but when they try to tell a problem-solver about it, the problem-solver jumps in with his own solution (which may not even apply, but is almost sure to be different from the one already found), and then the person who was happy and proud with their own solution ends up feeling bad. That’s not a problem solved, it’s a problem caused!
The shitters have no lid either. No lid! Aerosolized fecal matter everywhere!
To be fair, this is a thing. It’s not imagined by spamforbrains. However, activity such as living on this planet exposes us to things like micro-particles of aerosolized fecal matter, but we’re talking about minute fractions measured in parts per million of a mole (mass of 12 grams of carbon) and humans deal with much uglier pathogens sleeping in our own pristine bedrooms in our pristine homes (other than the dirty toilet room) every day. And they range far and wide from the bathroom.
Anyway, I don’t mean to aerosolize anyone’s personal opinions with my own fecal matter, but if you are concerned with the lid being closed before you flush, don’t leave the house and never, ever eat at a restaurant. You probably shouldn’t eat any food at all, if you can help it.
In our defense, I think it’s currently “take obvious jokes at face value” week on the boards. My dead baby jokes have been crashing and burning recently.
Sonny: Alright, listen to me. You pull up right where she lives, right? Before you get outta the car, you lock both doors. Then, get outta the car, you walk over to her. You bring her over to the car. Dig out the key, put it in the lock and open the door for her. Then you let her get in. Then you close the door. Then you walk around the back of the car and look through the rear window. If she doesn’t reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in: dump her.
Calogero: Just like that?
Sonny: Listen to me, kid. If she doesn’t reach over and lift up that button so that you can get in, that means she’s a selfish broad and all you’re seeing is the tip of the iceberg. You dump her and you dump her fast.
You see kids, in the 60’s and 70’s, single gentlemen often drove coupes. And in those days, cars were 20 feet long and coupes had doors resembling those of a modern bank vault. Much was made in the car sales industry of the “solid sound” a door made when it closed, so they weighed a ton.
So in order to close it herself, a lady would have to begin the process with one foot still on the ground, reach out sideways to catch hold of it, and then heft it toward her swinging her foot in just at the last second; it was a dangerous operation.
And throughout this maneuver one had to manage one’s skirt. And they were very short, and often light and flowy enough that the moving door would flutter them into immodest arrangements. . .
Trust me, change the camera angle and this lady becomes a Playboy centerfold.
But seriously, I used to be offended by it. Then I dated a true gentleman, who explained to me that it wasn’t because he thought I couldn’t do it, it was because he thought I shouldn’t have to. He just liked to do these small things to demonstrate that he cared for me. And since then I sort of miss it.
Agreed. Both sexes should be closing the top of the toilet seat every time. Although I’m sorry to say that the Mythbusters proved closing it has very little effect on the spread of waste through the surrounding area. Still, it keeps the dog from drinking out of it.
Does making me stop farting in bed and holding her head under the covers count as training?
I suppose my wife trained me, but it went the other way as well. we’ve had the “sometimes I just need to vent” is fine. So is “sometimes I can’t listen to venting”.
Cleaning isn’t usually an issue, because early on I established “I’ll clean the bathrooms. I don’t need any help and I don’t want any advice”. And especially “I don’t care how your mother did it - using the hand towel to polish the sink works fine if you put the towel into the hamper to be washed afterwards.”
The position of the toilet seat never came up, and the idea of horrible contamination from flushing after a tinkle seems petty. Trust me, she has had her face a lot closer to the bodily parts in question than that.
Different strokes for different folks. I like to give my immune system something to do.
