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How to make your relationship last: Stop being offended by everything

17/08/2014 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

He didn’t want to talk to me because he was playing FIFA.

“Hiya!” I said when he picked up the phone.

“Hi.” he said, distractedly.

I know that tone. It’s the one he uses when he’s playing on the X-Box and I have had the audacity to call mid-game.

It’s amazing how somebody can say so much by saying so little. What he really meant was: “I don’t understand why you are phoning me. If you’re not in danger, please can we talk about it later?” but in the interests of brevity, he stuck with “Hi” and I figured out the rest on my own. I just laughed, asked if we had any peanut M&Ms left in the cupboard (which was the real reason for my call) and said I’d be home in 20 minutes (to eat them).

Now, you might think this is a post about how rude it was of my husband to put the X-Box before me or about my outrage at the fact that he wasn’t just sitting at home waiting for me to return and tell him about the exceptionally well-priced fish and chips I had for my dinner (seriously though, they were just so reasonable) but that’s not the case. I wasn’t offended at all. And that’s because I’d have done exactly the same thing to him if he’d called whilst I was participating in my own hobbies – i.e. watching Coronation Street or singing along to the Bee Gees whilst loading the dishwasher (‘Now you can tell by the way I wash my fork, I’m a woman’s man, no time to talk’ is the lyric I’m probably most proud of.)

If you are going to stay together, it has to be OK that sometimes (assuming the other person is indeed safe, well and not deprived of purse-friendly fried goods) you need to have a bit of time to yourself. Not everything you do is about the other person, sometimes it’s just about doing what you want – be it kicking an imaginary ball into an imaginary goal, or single-handedly improving popular music through the use of cutlery-based puns – whatever you need, that time is yours.

The alternative is to spend your entire relationship being offended by the other person’s actions. In a long term relationship, it’s not possible to keep up the perfection of the early days. People don’t always text back within five minutes because they have jobs and travelling and Sudoku to do. They don’t always want to hold your hand when you’re walking along the road because sometimes it’s boiling hot and a sweaty hand sandwich is not everybody’s cup of tea. You’ll also find that sleep is a lot more comfortable when everybody keeps to their own side of the bed. It doesn’t mean they don’t love you, it just means that lying like a starfish will always be more comfortable than spooning, I don’t care what anybody says.

It’s best just to not get cross about any of this stuff because it doesn’t mean anything. Actually, that’s not entirely true – it does mean that you’re comfortable, which is nice, and that you’re clear on your collective view about whose side of the bed is whose, which is pretty much as important as it gets.

With comfort and trust comes that lovely moment when you can both just chill the hell out. He can prioritise the performance of 11 little footballers for a while and I can see what’s been kicking off in Weatherfield without anybody getting offended.

That is, of course, until he calls me into the lounge to ask me to watch a replay of a goal one of his electronic men has scored. I always say they’re ‘great’ but I know he doesn’t believe I care.

It’s amazing how somebody can say so much by saying so little.

10 things that should not happen during your first three months of marriage

17/11/2013 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

1. You get a sore throat that makes your voice deeper than his.

2. You get new blinds. Because when people ask what’s new with you, the answer is that you got new blinds. Nobody cares about your blinds.

3. You discover that one of the walls in your flat is riddled with damp and that you’re going to have to rip out your entire kitchen to fix it. Some of the dust might get on the blinds.

4. You find a wall of mould behind your wardrobe, that all your clothes are covered in mould and that if you’d just opened the chuffing window every once in a while this never would have happened.

5. You discuss the damp and mould situation over email and text message. I understand some people are into sexting; the only photographs we’ve sent each other recently are of dehumidifiers.

6. You spend more time speaking to British Gas about your temperamental boiler than to each other.

7. You fail to notice that your prescription for The Pill is running out, have to spend a week without it, and turn into an, albeit short-term, psychopath.

8. You develop a daily craving for boiled eggs and soldiers and start every post-work conversation with an update on the gooey-ness of that morning’s breakfast. He is not interested.

9. You get a water bill. Nobody deserves a water bill.

10. You’re forced to say “Well, thank goodness the wedding is over!” when you discover how much cash you have to spend on all of the above. Eggs don’t come cheap, you know.

Four things I will not miss about being single

01/09/2013 by Charlotte 4 Comments

With just six sleeps and five episodes of Coronation Street standing between me marriage, I thought now was the time to bid a formal adieu to my single days with a countdown of the top four things I will miss the least about being Miss Reeve…

1. Texting
Will he reply? Won’t he reply? Did he realise that the comment I made about the level of time I spend in my pyjamas was definitely a joke and not evidence that I have mental health problems? Does he think my use of emoticons is excessive? Should I take his lacks of kisses as a sign that he despises me? Does the inclusion of two kisses mean he’s totally interested? Was that text message really meant for me? Am I leaving big enough gaps between my replies? If I use ellipses is he automatically going to assume that I’m up for it? What does ‘What are you up to?’ even mean? How specific should I be? ‘Just rustling up a pasta, sauce and cheese dinner’ seems a bit dull but that is literally what I’m up to…

Marrying a man who only ever sends me texts to ask if we need anything from the supermarket or if he’s free on an upcoming Saturday as he’d really like to go and watch some very dull-sounding rugby, will make the whole texting business a much simpler affair.

2. Ballads
Sinead O’Connor, The Honeyz, Lionel Richie, Celine Dion, nineties boy band album tracks… they were all the soundtrack to years of sobbing into a pillow whenever the proverbial love train was taken out of service:

“Hello? Is it me you’re looking for? WHY NOT I’M EXCELLENT AT CONVERSATION!”

“I know what the Backstreet Boys mean, I want it that way too! TELL ME WHY!”

“Please! [enter name of boy/man who decided his life would be less irritating without me] THINK TWICE, FOR THE SAKE OF OUR LOVE, FOR THE MEMORIES!”

“I go out every night and sleep all day, since you took your love away (although to be fair I am a student so I’d probably have been doing that anyway).”

Now I can just listen to these songs as they were supposed to be listened to: whilst dusting the coffee table of a Sunday morning and marvelling at my ability to hold the final TWIIIIIIIIIIIIIICE in Think Twice all the way through (with only three short breathing breaks).

3. Fashion faux pas
I’m not going to get married and then instantly stop shaving my legs, washing my face or changing my underwear (we’ve already been together eight years so that all stopped ages ago, right ladies?! HEY-O) but I am going to enjoy chilling-the-chuff-out about my wardrobe choices.

I spent years with my stomach in knots as I realised that of course all the other girls knew that this was clearly a tops and jeans event when I had decided to wear a psychedelic nylon dress, or that obviously fancy dress is an opportunity for girls to attempt to look sexy and not just wear pyjamas and claim to be the boy from The Snowman.

Surely once I’m married I can just wear what I want, where I want. And by what I mean my dressing gown and by where I mean EVERYWHERE.

4. Base chat
Nobody ever forgets being called the dreaded F word (which in this case is frigid, although fat, frumpy and freakishly tall are also rather nasty ones), especially when it’s said by a person so unappealing that the world would be better off just coming to an end than using him to repopulate the earth. And so it comes as something of a relief to get married and move into the category of people whose love lives NOBODY wants to hear about.

As I have written before, there is nothing more awful or disgusting than the thought of people who are in a relationship – let alone married – partaking in bedroom-based activities. It is wrong and weird and enough to make a person vomit up their Monster Munch. I can do it or I cannot do it (or I can wait ’til all the housework is done to my satisfaction before even thinking about doing it like any normal person) and nobody need ever know.

Well, what a lovely note to end on! Blog fans, please note that I am taking a month off writing silly words for the purposes of having a wedding, a honeymoon and at least 30 days of marriage where I don’t publicly mock my new husband for still being unable to switch the bathroom light off…

See you in October!

WARNING: Women wear fewer clothes in hot weather

28/07/2013 by Charlotte 2 Comments

I think there’s been a misunderstanding.

I don’t remember seeing an announcement from the DVLA to say that, during a heatwave, car owners are permitted to drive with their face pressed against their window if a woman walks past wearing anything above the knee.

Nor do I recall attaching a BEEP IF YOU CAN SEE SKIN sign to my back when I put my skirt on this morning.

And actually, now I come to mention it, I’m struggling to locate a news story reporting that this is the first summer that some men have been outside.

But there must have been otherwise what could explain what’s been happening?

It’s hot out there. The weather is as close as Bert is to Ernie, as Jaffa Cakes are to perfection… It’s so hot that when I come out the shower I’m not sure if I’m drying water or sweat off my skin. It’s a very sexy time.

And to avoid passing out, we girls wear a little less than usual; we slip on a skirt, climb into shorts, opt for a strap instead of a sleeve, maybe we’ll wear a shoe with an open toe… Feel free to loosen your collar if this is getting too much for you.

And most people are cool with it; they’re so busy applying Factor 50 that they wouldn’t give a damn if we walked around naked. But for a few it’s just too much. Their flesh detector goes off and all of a sudden they’re like a dog catching sight of a ball: Look! It’s a ball! Walk-based propaganda has led me to believe that I like balls! And that I must run at them! And bark at them! And stare at them until I dribble!

I know, I know, marketing can be misleading. But here’s the thing: I ain’t no ball. And nor is the girl in front of me, or the one ahead of her. We’re just boiling and it would be a lot easier if our decision to sport a sundress didn’t spark a car horn toot-off.

Now don’t misread – this is not a compliment, it’s intimidating. Having a stranger leering at you like you’re spinning around a rotisserie is nasty and demeaning and enough to make us stay indoors until the leaves start falling off the trees.

But then, when you think about it, it really isn’t surprising that this still happens. Did you know that – even in this modern age of 2013 – we still live in a world where women are treated like ogling fodder by some members of the national press? Did you know that some newspapers STILL publish photographs of topless women on page three for every man, woman and child to behold? In 2013! I know, amazing isn’t it. If they will tell the world that our flesh is there for their entertainment, what hope have we got when the summer comes? It’s National Ogling Season, surely?

Of course there are lots of other things to blame too – these car-horn-beepers probably don’t know how belittling it feels, or forget that their wife, mother or daughter could be getting the same treatment, or perhaps their driving instructor just forgot to tell them to look straight ahead whilst in charge of a vehicle… but it certainly doesn’t help.

But thankfully there is an answer. The wonderful No More Page 3 campaign, which, as the name suggests, wants to get rid of this outdated tradition. There’ll still be news and sport and perhaps even the occasional Sudoku to keep you busy – just no naked female bodies to stare at, which I think is for the best.

I’ll wear what I want to wear, you wear what you want to wear and we’ll all keep our eyes on the road. Deal? I thought you’d come round, now do sign this, won’t you.

Just remember to pull over before you do.

Last night my PJs saved my life

28/04/2013 by Charlotte Leave a Comment

We girls will do many things for love.

Make you a pie, wash you a sock, comfort you when the little men you like don’t kick the ball where you want them to kick it… but we won’t do that.

And by that I mean – give up our pyjamas.

Yes, I come bearing one of the deepest, darkest secrets of the lady universe. I can’t tell you why we get so damn angry once a month (I DON’T KNOW, OK?!), or why it takes us so long to get ready (I fear the truth would shatter your illusions) but I can tell you why our bedwear is so important to us.

We might try and fool you into thinking that we’re pretty young things 24 hours a day at the start of a relationship when we have the energy, will and fear of loneliness to keep us going, but pretty soon the truth will out. Just as you like to strip down to a humble boxer short and sleep like a starfish ’til morn, we too like to relax just once – JUST ONCE – a day. If you want the lady in your life to be happy just accept that pyjamas are absolutely non-negotiable. Here’s why:

1. Breathing is good for you
According to fashion, rib restricting clothing is the key to sexual appeal. I don’t know if you’ve ever worn a pencil skirt, ‘waist defining’ tights or jeans that represent your goal, rather than actual, weight, but they’re not kind to the breathing apparatus. Sure, they look good (apart from the jeans, but a girl’s got to have goals) but they hurt like hell. And so, it is only right that when we lay our heads of a night time, we do so in loose fitting, stomach friendly PJs, that allow us to breathe for just a few hours without fear of popping a button.

2. Sleep isn’t meant to be sexy
Have you ever seen what we look like when we sleep? I mean really sleep? I can only drift off if I have my face pressed into the pillow, and the rest of my body spread front first onto the mattress. It’s not a pretty sight but hey, guess what? I’m not doing it for you – I’m doing it because getting up, washing, dressing, going to work, squeezing through a million people to get a seat on the train home, having dinner, and then eating a full bag of giant chocolate buttons is EXHAUSTING. And the only thing that makes it better is the promise of ill-fitting, animal print covered PJs and a few hours rest from real life. If you want us to be sexy, we’re going to need a nap first.

3. Nighties are a nightmare
Whilst a nightie may look momentarily fetching when we get into bed, by the time we wake up – no matter how still we stayed during the night – it will have ridden up around our necks, almost strangling us in our sleep. It makes us feel like a child who doesn’t yet realise that pulling up your dress to show the world your knickers is unacceptable behaviour. They’re also about as warm as wearing a tissue to bed i.e. not warm enough.

4. PJs hide a thousand sins
When we’re sat in a restaurant chewing on a chocolate brownie we should never have ordered following the cheese heavy starter and main we consumed because ‘Hey! It’s Thursday!’, we can at least be confident that all the evidence – the bloating and the stomach rubbing – will be hidden as soon as we get home and slip into something with an elasticated waist. I can’t tell you how many gluttonous nights and self-induced stomach aches have been cured by a quick change into my pyjamas and the strategic placement of a hot water bottle.

5. It doesn’t mean we don’t love you
You might think that if a woman gets into bed with you wearing trousers with a saggy bottom, a button up flannel shirt and thick socks, it means that she has lost interest in you, but you’d be wrong. This actually means that she loves you enough to let you see us at her most ridiculous, her least manufactured, and therefore her most content. You should consider the fact that she’s willing to let you see her when she’s truly comfortable a privilege… even if observing the two inch gap between her pyjama trouser leg and the top of her sock is something you’d rather have missed.

So there you have it. May women sleep soundly tonight in top-to-toe plaid, secure in the knowledge that their men now understand why it matters to them so much.

And men – having heard the benefits of sporting PJs, I imagine you’re on your way out to get your own pair. Why should girls have all the fun, eh?

Night all!