Not my SO, our roommate.
Look, My crutches sit in the exact same fucking spot in the bedroom. They go there every time I am not gimping around with them.
Why the fuck can you not walk into my room without knocking one or both of them down? Ever …:dubious: :rolleyes::mad:
Just a tip, from personal experience (and backed up by research.) This is called reassurance seeking behavior. She asks you these questions to moderate her anxiety. The more you reassure her, the more anxious she will become, and the more she will seek reassurance. My husband and I broke this cycle when he stopped responding in the affirmative. He started saying things like, ‘‘What do you think?’’ and ‘‘Honey, I am not going to reinforce this behavior. Show yourself compassion.’’ This forced me to learn how to deal with my anxiety without being dependent on him.
As numerous as they are I love reading these threads.
They seem to make me happy and I think I finally figured out why.
Every last one of you are madly in love. As much as your SO may disgust or madden you or get you all stabby. The threads are populated with people in deep love. I do not think I ever see anyone pop in to say “You know what my SO does to drive me cray? Sleeps with my friends and spends our savings on cocaine.”
Hell if they stopped the behaviors many of you would think something was wrong.
Good to hear you all are doing great!
It depends on what I’m doing that day. With the economy the way it is, I’m having trouble finding steady work, so I take whatever jobs I can find. It’s not uncommon in one day for me to clean out horse stalls in the morning, sand paint off of old furniture at lunch and clean churches in the evening. I meet with the clients before each job, so I don’t want to show up at one job covered in sweat, dirt, and other stuff from the previous job. So a quick trip home to clean up, so I make a good impression.
Thanks for the info. We’re trying to work through her problems, and any advice we can get is welcome. (She’s looking for a good shrink now that she health insurance, so that should help.)
Well, of course not. That’s what we’re doing! 
Her: “Honey, can you take the garbage out, please?”
Me: “Sure, no problem.”
90 seconds later, she is taking out the garbage.
She does this kind of thing all the time; I should be used to it, but I’m not. She swears she’s not mad, doesn’t think I forgot or am taking too long. She just decided to do it herself instead. Which is fine, but somehow I feel it makes me look bad. I said I’d do it, dammit, give me a chance to keep my word!
And, yeah, fifty-six, if this is the worst thing I can think of, I guess we’re doing OK. But these kinds of threads are fun anyway!
My SO is a wonderful person, with way less flaws than I have, but there are 2 that drive me nuts.
First - shoes, when removed, get put right at the door. Not next to the door. Not in the closet. Right in front of the door, where I have to dance my way through them to get out of the house. This happens at our house. This happens at our friends houses. Oddly enough, it doesn’t happen at his mother’s house.
Second - soaking dishes. We both sort of kitchen slobs. Food gets cleaned up and put away, but a dirty dish may set by the sink for a day or 2 until there are more of them to be washed. But my SO will fill a pan with hot soapy water, to soak off whatever is stuck on it, and then let it sit for 2 days. And the bowl that was just used? It gets dropped into the now cold soapy grimy water. And the spoon, and maybe a knife. So instead of one pan to wash, I’ve got all these greasy grimy [del]gopher-guts[/del] dishes as well.
First - If I’m in the middle of a project, like standing on a ladder painting the house, something else ALWAYS comes to her mind that needs to be done.
Me standing on ladder
“The driveway really needs to be pressure-washed.”
My standard answer is, “Would you like for me to start that now, or when I’m done with this?” My honey-do list hasn’t gotten one item shorter in 15 years.
Second - She drinks on an empty stomach. If we decide to go and hang out with friends somewhere and she starts to have a couple of cocktails, I’ll always say, “Hon, you should eat something.” She responds with, “I will later,” or “oh, I’m fine.” An hour later one of her friends (or me) is holding her hair back for her over the toilet. Luckily she doesn’t drink often.
Aw, crap. I do the same thing. Worse, I’ll laugh through something and then hit the “7-second backup” button thingy on our remote. Often. I noticed the other day that the ink has worn off that particular button. Oops.
In return, Mr. Horseshoe meanders verbally a lot. “Oh, I almost forgot this funny thing that Becky said at work to Brian, who’s this new guy we just got. He’s really nice but he’s got his really goofy way of putting away his-”
“WHAT THE FUCK DID BECKY SAY THAT WAS SO GODDAMN FUNNY ALREADY?!”
Ugh, I used to do the same thing: “Do I look pretty?” Mr. Horseshoe put a quick stop to it:
“I don’t hang out with uggos. You know that.”
My SO is a harpy and I hate her with the fire of a thousand suns.
Hah, not really. She is pretty sweet. I can think of one thing though. Moodiness. She uh, kinda has a temper. She won’t get physically or verbally abusive, but she will be pissed, and she will get snarky. Her mood can change so fast she makes snap, crackle, and pop taste like bend, rustle, and expand. It doesn’t even have to be anything major. She could just be cold, or maybe I accidentally committed some minor rudeness (different cultures…seems to happen often.) I’ve also noticed a strong correlation between this time and PMS, in which case I feel like I have to be a fucking psychic minesweeper just to get through the day. And don’t even get me started on the silent treatment, the cold, inky silent treatment that could make Superman’s fortress of solitude sound like sea lions in heat.
Hell, to be honest, sometimes it’s not a minor issue, but a big fat fucking major issue, but, eh, she’s the sweetest thing on this earth otherwise, so I’ve learned how to cope for the most part. Did I mention how awesome she is?
The temperature is not to her liking. Does she turn the thermostat up to 68 because 68 is comfortable for her? Nooooo… she turns it up to 77 to show the thermostat she means business and she wants comfort RIGHT GODDAMN NOW. 20 minutes later, of course, “it’s too hot”, and down it goes to 60. Drives me buckin’ fonkers.
Quote from my husband - “I love you until further notice.” 
She’d probably post here about her nutball husband who showers non-stop. 
See also: “I love you until further notice.”
I think you mean me, and I can explain (honest!) - my husband and I each had a cat when we met, so now we have two cats. I don’t think we’ll get another cat after these two are finished being alive (as my mom so delicately put it), but if we do, it will definitely be his choice, since he has the allergies.
That’s right - if the worst thing I have to complain about my husband is that he blows his nose too loudly, I’m doing pretty damned good.
My wife does that too! Although I think her reasoning is the higher she turns the heat, the faster it will warm up. I’ve tried to explain that it doesn’t work that way, but what can you do …
The thing that really bugs me is, she scrapes her teeth across her fork when she eats. I can’t even imagine doing that myself - the very notion is making me cringe as I write this - but she’ll merrily make that little snik noise of enamel on metal, and I just shudder.
[blush]I kind of do this too. My god, the man is a saint. Seriously, a saint.[/blush]
Although I never throw up. I’m sure he wishes I would.
To me, the Fella is nearly perfect in most ways. However, at Christmas, I discovered how seriously directionally impaired he is (I know, I know:p). Before that, when we traveled, either I drove, we took his car with GPS or I navigated all of the way (his SUV doesn’t have GPS).
On our trip to Louisiana and Texas over the holidays, his dad was going as far as Monroe, Louisiana with us, eliminating his car and my truck, which are both two seaters. Going to Monroe is a trip that he’s made many times. Since we lit out early, I dozed off about an hour before getting to Memphis. When I woke up, we were downtown. :eek:
If that would have been it, I would have just put it off to him being tired. But nooooo! He had to have his dad navigate once we got off I20 to go to his aunt’s house, where he had been many times before. I drove the rest of the way to Houston.
The man isn’t stupid. He is a good business man, has two degrees, is active in the community and is kind to children and animals (which is good, as he has three of each). He just can’t find his way around the block without his Tomtom and he doesn’t acknowledge it to the point of asking for someone to navigate for him.
Been married to my wife for 30+ years and love her muchly, but traveling with her drives me bonkers. Specifically the trip-preparation part.
The woman simply cannot plan and pack logically for a journey. Most trips begin with the last-minute holy-shit hurl random objects into a suitcase activity, followed by the let’s-leave-an-hour-later-than-we-planned. I actually have to separate myself from this in order to make sure I’m not distracted so much that I overlook things. When we’re heading out with the RV/boat I have to demand a few minutes away from her frenzy in order to check hitches/connections to ensure nothing vial is overlooked.
I freely admit that part of the problem is I’m easily distracted but it’s reached the point where when we fly together, I have to insist she wait in the terminal and allow me to finish and board the plane first. I’m adamant that she allow me to complete everything and get situated in my little nest before she joins me, lest I forget something important.
Once we’re on our way, the trip becomes fun. It’s just getting started that’s a pain.
Wait, what? I was with you until this part. You won’t let your wife board a plane with you? That seems a little… extreme.
Yeah, that strikes me as weird too. I mean, how much stuff do you have to remember between the terminal and finding your seat?
This has caused some conflict, but it won’t kill me. My spouse is another chronically late person, sometimes hours late – but it reassures her, while she prepares, to see me standing my the door with my coat on holding my keys, so even if she’s not ready – even if she won’t be ready for a long time – she gets annoyed if I an doing anything other than standing by the door tapping my feet.
“Why are you watching TV? Get ready!”
“I’m wearing my coat. I’m holding the remote. All I have to do is press a button, set it down, and walk out the door.”
“Well, turn the TV off now.” <Goes off to spend 20 more minutes dressing, then puts everything on hold when a phone call comes in.>
This next habit causes less stress, but probably WILL kill me some day. She’s infamously unsafe with positioning/storing inanimate objects. Just yesterday she was napping in the living room, so I came through quietly, without turning on a light…and tripped over the vacuum cleaner, which she had laid horizontally across the walkway, despite the (much larger) available non-walking space right next to it she could have left it in. Notable to this story is the fact that she had not, of course, vacuumed. She just got it out of the closet and laid it across the most-traveled walkway in the house in preparation for future vacuuming tomorrow.
She also once stowed a gun by the bed…loaded…pointed at our pillows, not away from us.
To keep knife blades from touching things while she’s using them, she’ll set them down with the handle on the counter and the blade projecting out into the kitchen working area at stomach height.
It’s like living with Macauley Culkin sometimes.
Oh, I do love him completely. That’s why, as you say, I can whine about these little things.
The vacuum cleaner/gun thing sounds dangerous though!