arguments

10 things I have taught my husband (and 11 things he has taught me)

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10 things I have taught my husband

1. The phrase ‘Softly softly catchee monkey’. I don’t know if you’ve ever been there the first time a person hears these words, but it’s a very special moment.

2. That when I say ‘It would be great if you could…’ (tidy the kitchen/empty the washing machine/stop eating all the chocolate and then leaving the wrapper in the cupboard to trick me into believing that there’s some left) I mean – ‘I’m annoyed that you haven’t already…’

3. That although having somebody say that they love you in person is excellent, from time to time, I will need to see that in writing via a greetings card.

4. That what’s even more impressive than offering to load the dishwasher, is actually remembering to switch it on. *twitches*

5. That watching a woman put on tights is 100% less sexy than it first appears.

6. That house trousers – i.e. a pantalon so comfortable that you can eat a giant roast dinner and 200g of chocolate and still not feel a pinch at your waistline – are an essential belonging (and in no way a sign that you’ve stopped making an effort with your appearance).

7. That attempting to rouse a woman who has fallen asleep on the sofa late at night is a task undertaken at your own risk.

8. That going to the supermarket (or arranging for a suitable representative to deliver their produce to your door) is something that people who like eating food HAVE. TO. DO.

9. That washing a jumper that says ‘Hand-wash only’ on the label at 40 degrees comes with consequences (namely me making shite and frankly terrifying jokes for the next three months about how I’m going to keep the now tiny jumper to give to the daughter that we may one day co-produce. Though, to be fair, he has never made that mistake again.)

10. That despite my limited physical strength, I would fight anything and anyone who ever tries to hurt him (and if they happen to pop round when I’ve just had a nap then GOOD LUCK TO THEM).

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And 11 things he has taught me…

1. That you can grate cheese onto soup. What was my life before I knew this?

2. That the level of rage I experience when attempting to update my iPod makes me very difficult to be around.

3. That some people like to sit and let their food go down after dinner, rather than instantly tidying the entire kitchen – and that doing so does not mean that they do not ‘respect the value of living in a clean house’ but that they are full, tired, and will do it in a bit.

4. That there is no limit to the number of rugby highlights a person can enjoy. Like, not at ALL.

5. That really it would be better for both of us if I just went to bed when I was tired.

6. That he is willing to lie to me about how ‘truly’ frightening rides are at theme parks in order to persuade me to go on them (I imagine that the people who run the automatic camera on Oblivion at Alton Towers enjoyed the moment when I found this out).

7. That there is no more effective way to avoid an argument than simply refusing to join in and leaving the room.

8. ….and that following a person who does this around and sighing will not alter their decision.

9. That having an iPad means that I can watch Coronation Street in the bath. (It is possible that this lesson was 40% motivated by knowing I will enjoy my programmes in a warm setting, and 60% by the knowledge that it will free up the television for X-Box based activities).

10. That it is possible to look at a person and wonder how on earth there was ever a time when you didn’t know them.

11. And that I never want that time to come again.

Relationship advice: How NOT to have an argument

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Everybody thinks they know how to argue. And then they move in with somebody and find out that they don’t.

I thought he and I were different. We don’t like confrontation, I thought, so we’ll just sort everything out like reasonable human beings, forgetting that I am not a reasonable human being.

And although it’s true that we don’t like confrontation (who does?), I do like a clean house, a tidy bedroom and to live with a human being who realises that if you’re not in a room, you should TURN THE FLAMING LIGHT OFF. He, on the other hand, likes the precise opposite, so we had no choice but to exchange just a few cross words to ensure we’d both survive cohabitation.

And I know now that I did it all wrong. Although we survived the process, sometimes I wonder how. So to save everybody else the trouble, I thought I’d share what I learnt: here’s how not to have an argument. Let this be a lesson to you.

Lots and lots and lots of sighing

Next time I update the ‘Other interests’ section of my CV, I’m going to add ‘passive aggression’. My first tactic for addressing my frustration when I found that he had failed to change a toilet roll/not emptied the bin/left yet another pair of boxer shorts on the bathroom floor (is it intended as a gift? You know, like when a cat brings you a dead mouse or something?) was to sigh over and over again in the hope that the increase in condensation in the flat would alert him to his errors. It didn’t work.

When asked what’s wrong, say “Nothing”

When the sighing got so excessive that I was at risk of hyperventilating, he would give in and ask what was wrong. And instead of just explaining “Your inability to grate cheese on the kitchen worktops without it look like a bale of hay has just exploded in the house,” I just said ‘Nothing’ and assumed that he would know that what I really meant was LOADS. Yeah, that didn’t work either.

Start talking to yourself

This is probably the most absurd stage in the passive aggression journey. At the end of my ridiculous tether after he’d refused to decipher the precise meaning of my sighs and clearly coded ‘Nothing’, I resolved to just start talking to myself in the hope that he would finally catch on. It’s very easy, all you do is stomp about whilst tidying the house muttering the following under your breath:

“Well hello there pair of pants, how very nice of you to come and sit right there in the middle of the bathroom floor! I guess I’ll just pick you up myself, shall I? Hmmm?!” 

or, for the ultimate in being a complete twerp, start thanking yourself:

“Oh thank you, Charlotte! How kind of you to clean up all my sh*t! Yes you do have MUPPET tattooed on your forehead and may I say how well it goes with your eyes. Your big muppet eyes.” 


He didn’t bite. He just sat and watched, baffled as to why he had ever agreed to move in with such a complete lunatic.

When forced to explain what is the matter, completely lose your sh*t and all perspective about what you were originally cross about

Eventually after one to two hours of the aforementioned arsing about, he would finally ask me to just say what the matter was. And I’d have wound myself up SO much by that point that I would just start blurting out expletives whilst pointing at the fridge or the bin like a mad person. I’d be apoplectic with rage and yet I wouldn’t really be sure why. His original crime – for example, eating all of the chocolate orange my grandma had bought for me, or talking during Coronation Street – had escalated to such an extent that I’d lost all ability to articulate myself. We’d both just have to retire to different rooms for a bit whilst I gathered myself, and he played X-Box until I was ready to start behaving like a normal human. What a bloody palaver.

BUT HERE’S WHAT I SHOULD HAVE DONE

Just calmly mentioned that something was bothering me, explained why and, as is the rule for everything in life, tried not to behave like a total dick. Who knew?

Well, now you do and thankfully so do I. Otherwise there’s no way we’d have made it this far. If only somebody had told me all this before we’d moved in together, I’d have spent a lot less time being severely out of breath.

Oh well. *sighs*