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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*

How to relax: 4 easy ways to chill the hell out

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IMG_20140824_135027-1024x1024 This weekend I have learnt a new skill: relaxing.

With so many screens to look at and people to see and stuff that constantly needs cleaning, how’s a person supposed to get a minute to themselves in 2014? Well, it turns out that it is possible; you just have to be disciplined. Here’s a four step guide to chilling the hell out:

1. Do one thing at a time
I have always been terrible at this. I can’t even walk down the stairs from my bedroom to the kitchen without treating it like it’s the last time I will ever make the journey. Heaven forbid I should descend without every used glass, load of washing and handbag in my hands in case I never get the opportunity again. Of course I could make a second trip but that would use up my essential letter opening/fridge reorganising/catching up with Coronation Street time – these tasks won’t do themselves, you know! Well, no, but doing one at a time will reduce the chances of tumbling down the stairs and landing on the floor with the entire contents of my bedroom on my head. And doing just one thing at a time is much more enjoyable. Fancy reading a book? Then just do that – don’t read it whilst simultaneously loading the dishwasher, changing the bed and alphebetising your CD collection. Want to spend time on ASOS selecting clothes you don’t need? Do it. But not with 35 other pages open that’ll distract you from the task at hand. (Particularly any online banking sites – your statement can really kill the mood).

2. Don’t feel guilty 
The way to do this is to a) realise that whatever else you think you should be doing whilst you’re reading a book/watching a film/purchasing yet another leopard print dress will still be waiting for you when you’re finished and b) enjoy yourself so much that you stop caring about it altogether. I sat and watched Annie Hall last night even though my brain was telling me that I should really be hanging the washing on the line and putting the dishes I used to make my very healthy pasta, sauce and loads-of-cheese dinner in the dishwasher. In the end I didn’t do any of it until the morning (admittedly partly because I fell into a cheese-induced coma on the sofa). Well, la-di-da.

3. Put your phone down 
Managing to get 1 and 2 nailed will feel like a major achievement and what do we do when we achieve something these days? We put it on social media. But in this instance we must refrain. If you’re waiting to see how many of your chums ‘like’ the fact that you’re kicking back with a novel and a tube of Pringles, how are you going to concentrate on the plot? And what if they don’t like it? Or you see that everybody on there is actually out drinking mojitos and dancing to (ENTER NAME OF POPULAR MUSIC I HAVEN’T HEARD OF) and you just end up feeling bad about yourself? That won’t be very relaxing, will it? Now I come to think of it, point 3 should really just be ‘Delete Facebook’ and I’m sure we’d all feel a lot better.

4. Don’t wait until you start crying to admit that you need to chill the hell out
Here’s a useful fact to remember: you don’t have to be on holiday to relax. Unfortunately I only realised this when I became so overwhelmed by my self-imposed 10-item domestic task list that I cried. My husband put me on a chair in the garden with a book and a glass of water and told me not to come back in until I had finished both. It shouldn’t have to come to this (also the book was The Fault In Our Stars. If you’ve read it, you’ll know that it only made me cry more but it’s the thought that counts) – it’s important to notice that you need to relax before you become a blubbering wreck.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my own advice, turn off my computer and pop on another film. Chomping through a Fruit and Nut whilst I do so does technically class as multitasking but I think we can all agree to let this one slide.

Relationships: The benefits of time apart

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102They say absence makes the heart grow fonder. And they’re right.

It also makes the eyes stop staring at the unwashed dishes, the mouth stop mentioning that the bin still hasn’t gone out, and the fingers stop pointing at that pile of clothes on the floor that ‘isn’t going to move itself!’ A little bit of time away from your other half will do wonders for your sense of perspective.

When you get married, you vow to be together forever. To share the good times, the bad times, and all the other times in between that are just sort of alright.

But nobody said you had to spend every waking moment together – in fact they’d be wise to make you promise not to.

In my experience, time apart is one of the many secrets to a happy relationship. There’s that, Netflix, home grocery delivery and an agreement that it’s OK for two people to feel differently about Match of the Day. If only they incorporated these things into the curriculum we’d all be a lot better off.

And, of course, I don’t mean long periods of time – assuming you actually like him or her that would most likely cause discomfort – but just the odd bit here and there. A weekend away with friends, a night at your mum’s, a day-long hen do/stag do/general drinking bender after which it’s best there’s nobody there when you get home to see just how green you can go – whichever way you do it, a bit of separation will do you both the world of good. And here’s why:

1. It gives you the chance to miss each other 
Before you live with your other half, you spend a lot of time missing them; waiting eagerly for the next day or night that you’ll spend together, counting down the hours ’til date number 19, or considering whether the time has finally come for you to mention that you were lying when you said you liked football. But once you’ve moved in, that feeling goes away. Sure, you might miss them when they’re at work or when you’re on the tube and thinking how much you’d prefer it if it was their butt that was three inches from your eye but, all being well, you’ll be back together in time for Eastenders. So incorporating a little time apart brings a touch of that feeling back – a little bit of longing to remind you that it’s still them that you want by your side – and most definitely not the round-reared stranger with no appreciation for personal space.

2. There’s nothing like a bit of perspective
No matter how much you adore one another, it’s still hard not to get caught up in the little things – the bathroom light he relentless fails to switch off, the pile of Busted and McFly CDs you refuse to throw away, and the two rolls of wallpaper you are collectively too lazy to put up. And if you never leave each other’s side, there’s a chance those things may start to grind you down – you’ll look at him and see an electricity bill and he’ll look at you and see nothing but your incredible taste in music. A little time apart can help give you your perspective back; some space to remember there’s more to this guy than his apparent ignorance to the rising cost of power, that there’s a reason you bought those headphones and that, lights on or lights off, there’s nobody you’d rather not put up wallpaper with.

3. You might get a text message that isn’t about food!
Correspondence, like all things, changes the longer you’re in a relationship. By the time you’re married text messages are mainly used to say things like “What do you want for tea?” and “Can you remember if we’ve got any peas in the freezer?” rather than “I can’t wait to see you” or “Your hair’s nice” (or whatever people say when they’re dating). But if you’re away for the night, it’s a chance to drop the domesticity and type out some words of love and affection. You can get back to thinking about the frozen veg situation tomorrow.

But of course, while there are lots of reasons to go away, thankfully there are many, many more to come home. You’ve just bought yourself a little time to remember what they all are.

You’ll arrive back fresh-faced, eager to see one another, and full of anecdotes from your time spent with other human beings.

And, if you’re lucky – if only for a little while – you’ll have forgotten all about that bin.

16 things I wish I could put on my Christmas list

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15 things I wish I could put on my Christmas list 21. Pyjamas with built-in Tasers to stun me out of bed in the morning.

2. 200 toilet rolls. The dullest gift ever, perhaps, but not having to buy any for a year or so would be swell.

3. A flesh-coloured umbrella so I can sew the DAMN THING to my skin if that’s what it takes to stop me losing it.

4. As above for my gloves, phone, house keys and Tesco Clubcard.

5. A smartphone that stays charged for more than ten minutes.

6. Every single birthday, Christmas and congratulations for getting a job/car/wife card I need to send next year; written, addressed and stamped, and with alarms set in my phone to remind me when to post them.

7. A mascara that beeps when it disappears under the bed, into my underwear drawer, down the toilet or wherever the hell it goes every morning when I’m trying to make myself look presentable.

8. A device that will tell me all the ingredients I’ve already got at home when I’m in the supermarket and losing the will to live.

9. A television that looks different to each viewer, for example, my husband would see FIFA 14 and The Walking Dead, whilst I would see Coronation Street and Boyzone at 20. (You might think it would be simpler to just get a second television but we live in a one-bedroom London flat and there is not room; the TV we have already doubles up as a dining table.)

10. 365 Cadbury’s Boosts. That should see me through at least half of 2014.

11. Eyebrows that don’t require 24-hour care. Or otherwise enchanted tweezers that can sort them out when I’m asleep and give me my life back.

12. The Dawson’s Creek box set. Nobody is going to buy me that.

13. A robotic laundry basket that will walk downstairs, empty itself into the washing machine and identify the appropriate setting of its own accord. (If it would also come back to empty the machine and pop everything on the rack too that would be ace but I realise that’s a big ask.)

14. Tights so thick it’s like wearing three pairs at once. The combined squeeze of three waistbands is rather uncomfortable.

15. A year’s worth of internet-ready, ROFL-worthy blog posts so I can go back to spending Sunday afternoons like I used to – either eating, shopping or repeatedly avoiding doing the gardening.

16. Perspective.

Merry Christmas readers!

15 post wedding resolutions I have already broken

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15 post-wedding resolutions I have already broken

1. Don’t use the fact that I wrote every single one of our wedding gift thank you cards against him.

2. When he says he’ll fill the dishwasher, let him. Don’t just do it myself because I don’t believe he’ll load it correctly.

3. Refrain from mentioning that all I can think about is getting home and putting on my pyjamas whilst out on date nights.

4. No longer bring up his domestic failings late at night when he is trying to go to sleep.

5. Stop mentioning that he lost my phone charger. And that sharing one between us is annoying. And that the fact that I could easily just stop being a baby and go out and buy a new one is NOT. THE. POINT.

6. Stay awake until at least 10.30pm on a Saturday evening.

7. No longer use sighing as a method of communication.

8. Don’t be offended because he’d rather play FIFA 14 than look through the wedding photographs.

9. Don’t threaten annulment just because he refuses to listen to Magic FM during dinner.

10. Spend evenings having conversations instead of just watching Mock The Week and Have I Got News For You reruns and falling asleep.

11. Avoid using sarcasm to express annoyance that the laundry basket is overflowing e.g. “You know what I love? Having a pile of laundry that is exactly the same height as me. It’s like living with ART.”

12. At least pretend to be open to the idea of leaving the house on a Sunday.

 13. Don’t use my new status as his wife as an excuse to bin all his boxer shorts that I don’t like.

14. Or let a blog post be the way that he finds out that I’ve done it.

15. Be a nicer person.

Network-it: Why leaving the house can be a good thing

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IMG_5238Before you know it, you’re an adult. There are a few ways of knowing this has happened to you:

– You need a job to pay for heating, carpets and food you want to consume;

– You’re allowed to go out in the evening without asking your mum for permission;

– You enjoy wildlife documentaries.

And all of a sudden, all the free time you used to wish away when you were a child has disappeared. The hours get used up by commuting and cooking and trying to pluck some sense into our eyebrows before you’ve even had a chance to think about what you might like to do with your life.

In the interests of having a little time each week to call my own, and that was protected from the lure of mopping the floor or attempting to match my freshly washed socks together, I started writing this blog.

It began because I missed writing (I was a newspaper reporter back in the day) and because I thought perhaps there were some laughs to be gained from making observations about extremely mundane things. I’ll leave you to decide if that’s true.

And many blog posts later, I’m still here, sat in my lounge of a Sunday evening with a Percy Pig egg-timer ticking away next to me, telling me I’ve got an hour to get this written before the butternut squash I’m attempting to roast for dinner will be done. I am either a model of multitasking or an idiot who really should have started writing earlier, depending on your view.

And every now and then it’s nice to meet other people who like to do the same thing. If nothing else it helps one feel a little less mad for spending part of the weekend writing words about handbag contents or people leaving the lights on. So this weekend I did a bit of ‘networking’ – a word that used to leave me cold until I realised it just means chatting – to find other people who know about this writing and blogging game, and to learn how to do it better.

On Friday I took part in a Q&A with Stylist magazine’s columnist Lucy Mangan after entering a competition to be one of ten people invited along. Besides being excited to be in the company of a publication and writer I admire, I was also just delighted to have actually won something. The last thing I won was a set of multi-coloured ring binders from WH Smith when I was 13. To this day that remains one of the proudest moments of my life.

And then on Saturday I ventured out to that Internet powerhouse Mumsnet for its second annual Blogfest – a whole day dedicated to celebrating women’s voices and to learning how to use them to best effect.

And I loved both occasions because, aside from teaching me lots of things, they also gave me a chance to face my fears; of speaking to strangers without any of them telling me to bugger off, of daring to call myself a writer, and of asking some famous and talented people for advice on how to do more of it. My palms were both cold and moist throughout.

But I left each event feeling what those of us who use phrases that went out of fashion five years ago would call pumped – both full of ideas and of pride at having done some learning when I could just have stayed home eating Pringles. (And at having the perfect excuse to go home and eat a whole tube to celebrate).

I will definitely be doing more of this; it’s amazing what you can fit in if you really want to. I can handle wearing mismatching socks for another week.

Right, now let’s make that dinner.