[QUOTE=gravitycrash]
Ok, what is it about zit squeezers? Please stop it ladies. Yes to you it is a sign of love, to me , it is showing all of my flaws.
[/QUOTE]
We had to put a moratorium on zit-popping. We both tend to do it to each other, but it had gotten to be an obsession with him to the point where every time he looked at me I could see his eyes scanning my face for stuff to pop. I felt like I was just a zit farm for him and my self esteem went through the basement floor.
He tends to talk very, very slowly. This is because he likes to carefully think about what he is going to say, but in that case, just wait until you know, then say it. Don’t start the sentence, then trail off for 30 or 45 seconds, leaving me wondering if you’re even going to continue. Which he sometimes doesn’t do. Or sometimes when he starts back up again it’s with the beginning of a new thought. He’ll have this stack of 3 or 4 open sentences without having actually said anything completely and I’ll be quietly going insane trying to figure out what the hell it is that he is trying to say.
Then when he is actually saying something, sometimes he won’t stop. He can beat a dead horse like nobody’s business.
He is getting better about acknowledging me, but he’s still not great about it. I’ll say something to him and get no response whatsoever. No grunt, no nod, no glance up from the computer screen, nothing. I have no idea if he heard me or not. I told him that it made me feel like he was ignoring me and he works on it, but he still does it often.
He constantly gets distracted by reading news stories on the internet or playing little Flash games. We’ll be trying to get out the door to go somewhere and he’ll stop to “check his email really quick” and I’ll come in 10 minutes later wondering what is taking so long and he’s reading some Yahoo News story about a two-headed Yak found in Antarctica or something.
He didn’t realize that it’s not subtle to lean over on one butt-cheek to let out a fart, and did so in public places, such as restaurants. He stopped doing that when I told him, though. “You realize that when you go like this,” [demonstrates, complete with the little strained facial expression that always accompanies it] “everyone knows you’re farting, right?”
He starts scratching at night in bed. It’s loud and it jiggles the bed. And it drives me nuts. He just gets itchy at bedtime. (And no, it’s not the sheets or something like that.)
Something he has gotten much much better about that used to drive me nuts was think that there was one correct way of doing something and all other ways were wrong. If that’s the way his parents did it, and I learned differently, then I was doing it wrong. I did win once, though, and got him to stop folding towels the retarded way that he used to, and fold them my way, which is the obviously superior way.
He mumbles while walking ahead of me, facing the other direction, and expects me to be able to hear what he is saying. He will also come in and start talking to me while I’m doing something (like in the middle of typing a sentence in an email) without giving me a chance to finish. Or even worse, call me into the other room and expect me to instantly stop whatever I’m doing and go.
Just like EmAnJ’s fiance, he thinks being intentionally irritating is cute, and sometimes it is–for about 3 seconds. After that it’s just actually irritating.
As for me I’m sure I annoy him a lot. I nag, I know. I say “you know” all the time in sentences, though in my defense it’s sometimes intentional as a prompt to get him to acknowledge that he is listening, rather than an unintentional filler (which it usually is.) I forget things a lot. I keep putting off calling the dentist, yet I’m always complaining that my teeth hurt (I don’t have insurance and haven’t found a new dentist since moving to Ohio, so it’s not just a simple matter of calling up the dentist–I have to find one, make sure I can afford them, hope they aren’t scary, and then decide to go plunk down a huge amount of money). I usually expect him to drive places when we go together, (and we end up using his car–and his gas–most of the time as a result) and then I complain about his aggressive driving. I lose track of leftovers in the fridge, which ends up wasting food. I tell the same stories over and over. In fact I talk a lot in general. Like that isn’t obvious from the length of this post. :smack:
Love the guy to death, though. This stuff is all just .00000001% of who he is, and the other 99.9999999% is just amazing and wonderful.
