I like the idea of listing our own deficiencies as well just as a reminder.
So, he has the above health related along with never leaving work behind and being “on call” to people all the time.
I have:
ex-husbands that treat me like crap that I haven’t turned in to child support yet,
get mad sometimes and have to go “to the cave”
two wonderful boys that will always get put ahead of him and he understands.
I guess if we all took a good look at our faults and were unforgiving of others’ we would never make it.
Part of the reason I thought a thread like this would be interesting is just that. There are ‘deal-breaker’ issues which you have to deal with but then there are issues which you just need to get off your chest; they’re outweighed by all the good things though.
A few I’m guilty of:
I need to put my dirty clothes in the hamper. It’s right there by the bed, I usually go to bed much later than my wife and I don’t turn on the light but still, it’s just laziness.
My wife did the basket thing for me as well. I’m actually doing pretty good with that. When I get home from work the kids are all jumping on me and fighting for attention, my ID badge and various things get tossed into the basket, they used to get launched on to the counter.
I need to help with the cleaning more. Actually, I think we should hire someone once a month or so but she says it’ll make her feel guilty since she’s a stay-at-home Mom.
I had a nightmare last night about my boyfriend relating to a certain relationship issue we’ve been having, and his reaction today was to make fun of me for tossing and turning half the night after I’d woken up from it. I suppose it might be half my fault for taking it so seriously but it was pretty terrifying at the time - a little soothing would have been appreciated. [/grumble]
I really lucked out and ended up with one of the easiest men (people) to get along with on the planet. After thinking about it for a while all I can come up with is that he leaves scuff marks on the floor from his boots and doesn’t notice when he sloshes his coffee and spills some. After 15 years, these are not significant things.
But…
I can bitch about his lazy no-good twin brother and his ever-money-grubbing sister. They all had a horrible upbringing - they grew up on the edge of a reservation, his dad was always off working on oil rigs and his mom abandoned them all in a cabin in the middle of nowhere and no one found them for almost 2 weeks. They were all split up and put in foster care with farm families and it was years before his dad could get them all back again. By the time he was 18 one of his brothers had been murdered, his twin was in and out of jail all the time and his 15 year old sister had 2 kids that had been taken away, and my partner took off for another state. He figured it was the only way he was ever going to break out of it and have a chance at a normal life, and he lost touch with them for years because they moved around so much and spent so much time in prison. Finally last year he felt guilty and decided to find them, and he sure wishes he hadn’t now. Both are unemployed alcoholics that spend more time in jail than out, and now they’re hitting him up for money on a regular basis. His twin wants to move out here and my partner’s attitude is ‘only over my dead body’. Neither of these people gave a shit about him until they found out that he had some money and owned a house. He doesn’t complain but I can tell that he’s pretty torn between guilt, pity and wanting to tell them to get lost again.
Blech. This doesn’t even fit here because none of it is his fault and I don’t know what he should do either, but I already typed it out.
I freakin’ can’t live without her. I tried, but it just didn’t work.
Do you have any idea what it’s like to be with someone who’s so completely like you that everyone else pales in comparison?
Jebbus Crist (distant cousin to Charlie), do you realize that I could talk to this woman for hours on the phone and still have my face in cramps from laughing and joking with her? The torture! The phone bills!
And don’t even get me started on the sex. All the time, every day. What a nightmare! My balls practically fall off on Sunday nights.
I used to think I didn’t like rice. What I don’t like is Minute Rice with some butter or gravy on it (the way my mom used to make rice). I like real rice cooked in a rice cooker, the way they do it in Chinese restaurants, just fine.
I thought of something. He leaves those damn little drill bits in all of his pockets and if I miss them they get wedged under the agitator in the washing machine and I have to pry them out. What is so hard about checking your pockets before you put your pants in the wash?
He: has absolutely no problem sitting on his arse while I clean house. Makes a huge deal out of it if I ask him to pick something up from the store. Doesn’t read my moods to know when he really should leave me the hell alone. Has a hot temper when something sets him off.
I: pile clothes and shoes up at the end of the bed. Let the mail pile up until I feel like taking time to go through it. Can get amazingly bitchy if I’m having a bad day. Have filled our lives up with pets.
Thinks wiping dishes with a soapy sponge = washing them. Honey, if there’s still food on the fork tines, it’s not washed.
Watches America’s Next Top Model.
Wears socks to bed.
Nags me about leaving things from my pockets, bills, books, etc. lying about the house.
Things about me:
Leave things from my pockets, bills, books, etc. lying about the house
Am not in any way prompt about putting my laundry away
Am terrible about throwing things away (old bills, catalogs from two years ago, etc. Once it’s found a spot that’s not in my way, it can sit there for eternity unless it does get in my way, then I’ll move it out of the way but still not throw it out. Drives her nuts.)
My darling, darling one, whom I love dearly and could currently kill with my bare hands (no, no cognitive dissonance there, thank you) does not EVER REALLY FREAKING LISTEN TO ME.
Yes, I know I’m shouting. I’m shouting in my head, too. I’m trying hard not to shout with my actual voice because I don’t want to scare the baby.
ETA: Forgot about me. I could go on forever. I’m temperamental and I let the laundry pile up. Those are probably the ones that bug him most.
If I hesitate for even a fraction of a second in removing a jar lid, zipping up my jacket, putting the key in the door, clicking on a link, anything, he takes the object out of my hands and does it for me. He means to be helpful, but you think about how you would like to have things snatched away from you all the time. It is so fucking frustrating. You know, you can let me do it. I promise I can zip up my own jacket, even it it takes me 0.7 seconds!
He jumps out of the car as soon as we get into the space, often before I finish parking. Then he goes running into wherever we’re going, without waiting for me. This would be understandable if it were raining or really hot or really cold, but he does it even when it isn’t. Then he’ll let the door swing shut at me- I at least try to hold it open for him if he’s behind me.
He likes long, systematic trips to the grocery store, where he goes through every aisle and comparison-shops for lots of things. My trips to the grocery store are more like “I’ll run in for a few things- I’m too tired to systematically go through every aisle”.
He’s not confident in his driving skills (I blame his mom for this one- she teases him about it). It would be great if he were more comfortable driving, because then I could send him by himself on the long trips to the store that I hate.
He works all the bloody time. A lot of it’s from home, but I think he works 80 hours a week, easy.
He’s often tired and grumpy from working all the time.
He leaves the kitchen faucet dripping (I blame the faucet for this one, as it wasn’t a problem until recently). If a plumber is going to get called to deal with the faucet, it will have to be me that does it, because he won’t unless there’s water spraying out of the thing and we can’t shut it off.
He calls me a lot on his cell phone on the way home. I don’t like that, because it startles me.
Damn her from me, too. I wish I was going to Australia.
This is one of my greatest upsides and downsides.
Upside: I don’t expect anyone to be able to read my moods. If you ask me “What’s wrong?” and I say “Nothing”, that means either there really is nothing wrong, or something is the matter and I don’t want to talk about it.
Downside: I can’t read anyone else’s moods, either. If I ask you if something’s wrong, and you say no, I have to take that at face value.
I’m lazy. If you look up “lazy” in the dictionary, I think my picture is there, but eh, I don’t really care enough to go to the trouble of getting a dictionary and looking. Can I Google it instead?
I’m extremely disorganized. Any piece of paper that has been in our house for more than a month is probably lost forever. I rely heavily on online records and bills. We’re both collectors and pilers.
I worry. I need to be told “Everything will be OK” a fair bit.
I’m not domestically oriented. I don’t notice when dirt is building up. We have a housekeeper come every two weeks to keep things from getting too bad. He and I both have big piles of laundry in our bedroom. We do laundry only when we’re running out of a particular type of clothes.
Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? I thought it wasted water and electricity to run the washing machine or dishwasher when it’s not full.
I swear to God.
I use a broom and dust pan to sweep the wooden floors.
He thinks a Quickie Dust Mop is vastly superior to a broom. So he dustmops everything (except corners, because you can’t get the corners with a Quickie Dustmop.) and then…he pushes all the debris, crumbs, cat hair, stuff over.to.the.corner.behind.the.basement.door
( which is open 99% of the time.) and leaves.it.there. I think I am stroking out.
EXCUSE ME, BUT YOU DIDN’T FINISH THE JOB! A half assed job is not a job well done, Mr. Prussian Is In My Blood! If anyone gets to do a job half assed it’s the Full Blood American Dipstick. I get the Pass, not him!
He moves my broom and dustpan into the laundry room and puts the lhasa-apso- on-a-stick in the readily accessible spot next to the fridge. Oh, no he doesn’t! I switch things around. He moves them back.
This has gone on for years. There is alot of hidden aggression in this simple act, yet not one word is spoken. A silent game of marital chess is being played out. Quietly we just remove the offending cleaning product and return the RIGHTFUL ONE to its resting place of GLORY. To think as a young girl that my marriage would come down to this. Silent arguing over a fucking cleaning product. It’s insane.
So, today, I think the rules of the game have changed.
I cannot find the broom nor the dust pan. I should not have to spend more than one minute to locate the item needed. I looked for over twenty minutes. I called him and asked him.
He played stupid very well. Too well, infact and claimed he knew nothink about the broom or dust pan.
If that is the game he wants to play, he’s gonna get THAT game.
One day, dear people, you will be reading on Fark an obit where a spouse was beaten, stabbed and rectally injured to death by dustmop or broom.
It will be one of the Ujests.
Please print out this post and sent it to my children.
It should be full but not so full you can’t squeeze in another item. When it’s full like that it’s very hard on the machine; my wife overloads ours so much the plastic on the top edge of the tub is wearing down. Also they don’t clean as well when they’re tightly packed together.
If your finances can handle it the cure to this game is to buy a new broom and dustpan every time you can’t find them. Not the cheap ones, the nice name brand ones.
About 18 years ago my husband decided that the dish soap could not be by the sink, it had to be hidden. (The broom also, which is another whole story, he would throw that down the basement stairs because 4 inches of broom handle was visible to the public if it was in the kitchen behind the stove area). He would hide the dish soap. I would go to the store and buy the largest container of dish soap they had. I was the only one who did the dishes and when I needed more soap my hands were too yucky to touch the cabinets so I felt like I should get to choose.
After a while he stopped for a few years. Then it started again and I waved the dish soap in his face and said “Do you really think this makes things better between us? Do you think this makes me like you more?”
And he stopped.
Now he puts the coffee container out of my reach if I leave it out.