No he didn’t…. girl, yes he did!

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Remember those episodes from 90s sitcoms? Someone breaks something (usually one of the kids) and the entire episode is devoted to keeping this transgression a secret. A montage of multiple failed bonding attempts and it fast forwards to either a horrible representation of the original, or it appears that nothing has taken place…. at least until the owner touches it, and it falls to pieces.

Insert that entire scenario into present time and replace the laugh track with the silent shaking head of a woman who’s realized her boyfriend thinks she’s crazy. Because, clearly anyone that keeps up with their belongings would recognize something brand new being glued back together.

Here’s where it all e the house stopped making sense. Yes, you broke something of mine. Why not just tell me, then replace it? Would I be upset? Of course, I don’t think that’s unreasonable. The fact that you took the time to locate glue, use it, actually clean up the repair site (which you have a hard time keeping your socks in inopportune places) then leave the house in the morning as if everything is fine is a tad unnerving.

This brings me back to my argument that cohabitation is a mistake among the species. Yes there are times in life in which the company of the opposite sex is warranted and welcomed, but the daily living situation is unnatural and hectic. There’s a piece of me that’s glad that I wasn’t informed and the brunt of my fury is taken out on the blog, however I don’t think I would’ve been as upset getting the news as finding the evidence.

Ladies,
The man cave is an essential part of not being convicted of a crime of passion on all fronts. Keep that in mind, buy a leather couch and big ass TV, put him in his space and get a chance to keep the rest of your house.

Cohabitation Woes

 

Only children grow up with a certain sense of ownership and boundaries. There’s something to be said about one growing up and sharing a space with someone that’s always had to share. There’s even more to be said when the situation is male and female. Don’t get me wrong, I’m firmly against men living in the same space as women because simply “boys are gross”. However when you have two people of the opposite sex, with opposing views on boundaries, you’ve collected the ingredients for the recipe for disaster.

The bathroom of a male is disgusting in a different way than that of a female. Where makeup and creams may dominate in a female bathroom, hair chips and toothpaste splatter occupy the male. Put it all together and what do you get? Causation to commit a misdemeanor assault.
“Well why doesn’t everyone clean after themselves?” One might ask.

This is where the lifestyle differences come in, the only child will clean-up once, and whomever destroys the area after that is responsible to put it back in order. But, the one from the home of collective responsibility will wait until they feel like it’s their “turn”. See how those two instances can conflict?’

In the end, the most rational solution is to sever the cohabitation agreement and live in separate spaces.

“But we just got married, we can’t live in separate houses”

Think back on how our grandparents survived. Nana and Pop had separate rooms and bathrooms in their golden years, because they knew better.

That’s all for my rant today. Share your thoughts.

OCD and The Box

There’s a random topic that’s been on my mind, and it’s not appropriate for anything else I write so I thought I’d bring it here. As many of you know, I started this blog as a way to get out my frustrations without the consequence of having said the things that float around in my head to people that I love and care about.

With that established I must assert that there will be no giving or receiving of ass or any other sexual act in a house that is not clean. Cohabitation is not easy, and the biggest hurdle to ascend is the bachelor pad mentality. But dirty sex is for prostitutes, the homeless, and meth heads. I’m not saying that the entire house must look as though it’s ready to sell, but there has to be  clear and defined line of acceptable appearance.

Ladies, you know how growing up you hold those conversations about sex on white sand, then you grow up and try to attempt some of the stuff you thought were fantasies and end up with a bug bite or sand in an inaccessible location and abandon the thought? I believe that’s what’s happened to me in the realm of, just burst into the house and throw our clothes on the floor… etc. That shit is ridiculous, why? Who exactly is going to be expected to clean that up? The thought of having a task to perform aside from falling asleep and waking up to some juice makes the whole thing sound like it needs to be skipped.

Usually people with OCD end up in relationships with people that do not have it because it’s hard to find someone with the same ticks, and in that sacrifice comes the sentence to life without control. Some may say that I’m wrong for putting the box up for ransom, but I bet that sweeper gets a few laps around the living room this evening.

-I couldn’t say it out loud, but I’m glad I got it off my chest.