My ex destroyed The Beach Boys for me. Not that I was a big fan in the first place, but hearing them blasted day after day after day at ear-splitting levels has guaranteed I will never willingly hear them again.
If she wants to change the habit, what you should do is say the number of likes she said in the previous sentence when she finishes that sentence. Just simply “Five” afterwards. Not judgmental, just stating a fact. Not in public, only in private. I had that problem in high school and my dad fixed it in about a month of doing that.
I’m SOOO with you on that…I hate hate hate people eating crisps for this very reason. However, you have it lightly if he puts them in a bowl - without that you also get - krinkle…crunch! munch munch munch munch munch…kringle…ad nauseum!
My husband chews his food like he’s trying to turn it into mouthwash. It’s disgusting.
The way he eats french fries. He shovels them in really fast, one after another. I’ve gotten where I don’t look at him when he eats fries.
I figure if this is the worst thing I ever have to worry about with him, I’m golden.
The mister adores Richard Thompson - maybe “worships at the altar of the church of Richard Thompson” is a better description. I used to kind of like RT, but after hearing his last album played EVERY FREAKING NIGHT FOR A MONTH I went and bought earplugs. I named one plug “Richard” and the other plug “Thompson” and now I never have to hear that whiny nasal voice again ever. Thank God.
Constant eating. Constant. At the speed of a turtle. And man he eats some weird things. He’ll dump a can of cold beets into a bowl of kidney beans and call it dinner. Meanwhile he’s 135 pounds and I’m the one struggling with my weight. Sometimes when I’m chewing on my allotted 350 calorie spinach salad, he’ll just look at me over his fifth bowl of cereal and say, ‘‘It’s really not fair, is it?’’
And it takes him forever to finish a meal. He’ll eat, wait fifteen minutes, eat some more, wait another fifteen minutes. Always wanting to eat something. Always wanting to drag a normal dinner out to a four hour event. He eats so much.
The runner up is the atrocious way he tells stories. You know in Finding Nemo when Marlin is trying to tell a joke, and he’s constantly interrupting himself to correct details of the story that aren’t important? That’s Sr. Olives. He’s got one of those hyper literal minds, he doesn’t understand the concept of generalization very well and he’s not good at eliminating irrelevant details. ''So I was running late for work… well, actually I was about 17 minutes behind because I had to fix myself a third breakfast… so I guess I was running 15 to 17 minutes behind… ‘’ And then it turns out the story is about sea cucumbers. Listening to him try to tell a story for entertainment value is almost physically painful.
As for what he’d say about me… my wag is my inability to leave anything in order for long. He calls me Shiva the Destroyer.
My ex-gf has plenty of good qualities and others that drove me nuts and one of those stiff baffles the hell out of me, especially because it happened more than a few times.
She’d be in the kitchen washing a dish or cleaning the counter and she’d call me from across the house. So I’d stop doing whatever it is that I was doing and get in there just for her to lecture me about how the sponge was too old. She’d go on about how dirty sponges carry bacteria and we could get sick. All of the time when there was this mega-pack of like 60 brand new sponges from Costco right under the sink. For fuck sake, just throw it in the trash and get a new one. They’re like 30 cents each. Why do I need to be interrupted and lectured about this?
My wife and I are both “thrashers” at night, and we tend to have restless nights that may cause us to be up for a couple hours, often sitting on our deck. As a result we have separate bedrooms. It is both our faults we do not get enough snuggling. Neither of us wants to interrupt the other if we might be getting sound sleep.
Today is a day off for my wife. She is in her room practicing her guitar. This is relaxing private time for her that I do not want to interrupt, so I am here with you.
I didn’t know I was married. I’m a huge RT fan and my real last name is is Brown, too.
This. Can we not just sleep until 6 and then wake up?
This is the only thing. I feel bad mentioning it, but it drives me potty.
Just out of curiosity, I asked him his top two complaints about me.
They were:
- Asking him to bring me stuff
and
- Not taking care of my dishes properly
guiltily looks around, returns empty plate on ottoman to kitchen
But I think he’s overreacting on #1. What’s the big deal about asking someone to grab you a drink while they’re in the kitchen, or hand you the remote control if they’re standing right next to it? I’d do it for him, and have, when he’s asked. The problem is I ask way more than he does. 
Oh, and he’s just a little OCD. ‘‘Did you lock the door? Are you sure you locked the door? Maybe you should check and make sure you locked the door.’’
I think rather than having one complaint, we should be allotted one complaint for every year of marriage.
Teela Brown is not her real name, unless one or both of her parents are Larry Niven fans. It’s the name of a character in the Ringworld books.
This was one of several factors which inspired us to get separate bedrooms. Once I hear the alarm go off, I’m awake, and will not snooze. Whereas my husband apparently needs multiple alarms before he manages to fight his way to full wakefulness. Hearing an alarm and trying to drift back to sleep makes me all stabby.
Always pinching my pimples. Always. Especially right before bedroom “playtime”
He actually puts them IN A BOWL, he doesn’t eat them directly from the bag?
Shortly after Mr. SCL and I bought the home we still share, a leak developed in the living room. Examination of the (relatively new) roof did not reveal a leak. Repeated trips into the attic did not reveal it. It took several years to fix and correct the external leak.
This left us with an appox. 4 x 4 patch of damaged living room ceiling. I have worked as a carpenter’s helper, so I know the labor involved in doing sheetrock. Multiply that x10 for overhead work.
I advised Mr. SCL to hire a friend of mine to do the work. He’d do it in a weekend.
“Oh, no. I can do that”.
My living room furniture has been under sheets for the last 4 (FOUR) years. The ceiling is not finished.
I want a divorce.
I’m confused. If you can rock a ceiling, why can’t you work the phone? Hire your friend, get the ceiling fixed.
too soon, I think, for any response here 
We had the same issue. Basically I think it came down to him feeling like I was not being respectful of his time when I was demanding that he bring me something that I could easily get myself, and derailing his train of thought, and blah whatever.
I just quit asking him that sort of thing for a while, out of respect for his wishes and because it’s not a huge deal to me. And now I just have my kids bring me stuff instead. 
You obviously don’t know any of that type.My husband does the same thing. Bad things will happen if someone else does the work. If I hire someone he’ll complain " Why’d you spend the money , I TOLD you I would do it , if I wanted to hire someone, I can get a better deal than you can ". If I ever want to kill him, I’ll hire a contractor on my own - he’ll get so mad he will have a stroke. If someone does it for free, he might react as my uncle did- after 10 years of no walls in the living room my cousin and his friends put up sheetrock, so his sister could have one room to take wedding pictures in . My uncle didn’t talk to them for at least six months.