He’d probably say two things: I don’t communicate with him, and I’m a flake.
He’s absolutely right. I don’t tell him things (mostly through oversight, but sometimes because I just don’t want to share). And I’m pretty forgetful, which must drive him crazy.
This. It is such a completely jerkish thing to do, and I used to do it all the time. Once I realized I wasn’t being nice and letting her opinion go before mine, but rather forcing the decision on her. I finally fixed it by being arbitrary, and I get my way most of the time. Where do I want to go for dinner? I don’t really care, but I’m going to say the brew pub, because I like brew pubs. 9 times out of 10, in any group, we do what I want, just because I bother to speak up and express an opinion.
My wife hates when I forget to inform her of our plans. In my head I had a nice conversation with her where I explained we’re going out Sunday night, so there’s no need to make dinner. Then when 4pm Sunday comes around and she says we don’t have any food in the house, I get all surprised because we’re going out…
I’m forgetful and often tell him the same story [del]twice[/del] over and over and over.
I’m a big believer in soaking dishes before washing them, but I do get a little carried away if the dirty dishes are starting to accumulate a bit, creating intricate, Jenga-esque scultures out of carefully balanced pots, mugs, and dishes. Touch one thing, and they all go clattering into the sink.
I tend to set the remote back down in front of me instead of in the middle of the table where he can see/reach it. That one’s starting to drive him nuts all out of proportion, probably due to frequency of occurrence.
He thinks I’m too critical of him, and I really wish he would cut back on saying that. 
I too struggle with this.
My automatic response is, “I don’t know. What do YOU want to do?” and the fact is, I genuinely don’t care, but at some point I realized that she’s not asking to be polite, she’s asking because she wants an answer, so I have to remind myself of this and just blurt something out.
I also do this, and it drives my wife nucking futs.
I can reshelve a book in the wrong place, and she will notice within seconds of walking into the room. She, on the other hand, can completely rearrange the furniture in the room, and I won’t notice it until I go to make a phone call and find the phone in the wrong place. This might be two or three days later.
That isn’t hyperbole - It has happened exactly that way three or four times in our 26 years together.
Well, as I said in the other thread, I’m Shiva the Destroyer. I have a tendency to leave chaos in my wake.
And whenever I use a sink, I somehow manage to get water all over the floor. Every time. (I used to get in so much trouble for this as a kid, but I swear, I can’t help it.)
I pester him when I want attention by making high-pitched squawking noises (originally conceptualized as the sound amoebas make, now just a general creature call.)
I whine. Not all the time, but when I get really anxious and confused about what to do next.
So basically I’m a giant child.
Mig, when we were still together, complained that I never gave him enough sex. As long as he got enough sex he didn’t give a damn if I spent all day on the computer, didn’t cook “his” foods, or clean up after myself.
But if the sex wasn’t there, everything I did pissed him off.
Are you me? Apart from the squawking thingie that is.
Warning: Inventing new terms here.
Assuming there is a cleanliness-continuum ranging from “Squatter-infested-Crackhouse” (SIC) to “Open-Heart-Surgery-room” (OHS), then everyone has their own preferred spot along the line. In fact I believe everyone has a minimum point, at which they begin cleaning, and a maximum point at which they feel everything is wonderfully tidy. I will call this band the individual Personal Tidiness Range.
Our Personal Tidiness Ranges do not intersect. At all. My maximum cleanliness point is nowhere near her minimum acceptable level. I can exist happily at an level best described as Frat-house-meets-truck-stop-toilet, and this drives her bonkers. She claims that I actually cannot see dirt.
We’ve never resolved this during our 31 year marriage, since I’m reluctant to accept a 50% role in cleaning unless I am also allowed the same weight in deciding what “clean” means. We’ve achieved a sort of truce in that she’s convinced me a filthy house has an undesirable effect on her libido.
Snore
I don’t make pasta nearly as often as Bill would like. I think that he’d be very happy to eat pasta (spaghetti, lasagna, manicotti, stuffed shells) five times a week. Usually he only gets it two or three times a week.
I snore. But he does too, and so does one of his cats. However, when the cat snores, it’s really quiet, and it’s cute. When Bill snores…not so quiet, and not so cute.
I’m also Shiva the Destroyer.
I’m a perfectionist. If I can’t do it right, I won’t do it at all, for the most part. I’m trying to get over this, and I’ve made some progress. Bill will just get something done, and if it’s not perfect, he generally is OK with this, if it’s not important. He WILL make an effort for something that needs to have some quality control.
I usually don’t watch TV, and when I do watch it, I want to watch the whole damn show. I don’t want to flip between channels. Nor do I want him flipping channels. Not even during commercials. I’m only going to be watching that show ONE time, so I don’t want to miss the key point. And when I watch TV, I don’t want to talk. Not to the TV, and not to him, and not even to the cats.
I leave my running socks everywhere. Stuffed in my running shoes, on the floor next to the chair I sat in when I took them off, in the kids’ laundry. I’m slowly regaining control over my socks, but it’s taking a lot more work than I expected.
I’ve just figured out how to get him to clean up! 
I am a bit of a hypochondriac and a worrier. We’re still in the early stages where he thinks it’s cute, but I’m sure some day it won’t be cute.
Mr. Tao, is that the future-you? 
My sweetie is, to put it nicely, a lazy slob, at least when it comes to housecleaning. And I haven’t yet gotten to the point where I don’t get extremely irritated when I am the only one doing anything about the mess. (For the record, I am not a neat-freak, but I can appreciate using scheduled-cleaning in place of the discipline neither of us have; he considers that nagging. 
)
Anyhoo, we’ve only been together a few years but I’m done with the mess. So I can tell you what is GOING to irritate him about me, and that is my turning into a total martinet on this matter.
I have no sense of direction. But that’s not what irks him. What drives him crazy is that I do not give a stuff that I have no sense of direction. I really and truly do not care that I will most likely get lost the first time I go somewhere.
He just cannot fathom that.
Apparently, I make some kind of noise when drinking beer out of a bottle. Sort of a “foomp!” as I take the bottle away from my mouth. Drives her completely nutso. Leaving closet doors not completely closed. The usual toilet seat stuff.
I leave the front door unlocked when I come home. I also leave curtains and windows open and forget them.
I’m not good at anticipating tasks that need done.
I spend too much on groceries. I swear, whatever deal I got makes her grimace because she couldve gotten it at half the price.
I tend to forget to close the garage door, resulting in a lecture on how skunks can walk in, or how roving bands of thieves can spy our lawnmower or snowblower and make off with them in the middle of the night.
I take laundry out of the dryer before it’s completely dry.
I’m always right. Little tiny things - The bank is closed Friday. It was Sylvester Stallone in that movie. Tylenol has been recalled and you can’t find it in any store. The trash will so be picked up on Saturday even if it IS a holiday, because some holidays are more important than others. He will check it out and find it is so, and I will be asked “what does it feel like to always be right???” And I always reply, “one of us has to know this stuff.”
We recently came to a solution on this. Because he can’t bring himself to clean and Ive been staying up way too late cleaning, I hired someone. They start tomorrow, thank god.
I wont drink milk if its a couple of days before the expiration date. I know I am being crazy I just think it is so nasty, so I will buy a new gallon and open it, even with the other gallon being half full. (if its more than half full I will force myself to drink it or use it for cooking)