Monthly Archives: August 2011

Cleanliness is next to Godliness (at least in my book).


This can definitely be classified as a “first world problem” or, my personal favorite, “white people problems,” but  I need to vent.

I wish...

My boyfriend is GROSS. Sometimes mind-blowingly so. I’ve never considered myself to be a clean/neat freak, but I do have standards and his apartment was far, far below them when I moved in. Seriously, how do you not notice that the sink is overflowing with dishes??? After leaving a cereal bowl on the living floor for TWO WEEKS, don’t you think it’s time to pick it up??? If I find one more empty pack of cigarettes in my CLEAN laundry basket, I’m going to LOSE IT (especially since I just spent 10 bucks and 2 hours at the laundromat! GRR.).

It all started on my first official move-in day. I drove 3 hours in my fully packed car with no breaks and, needless to say, when I arrived I needed to pee somethin’ fierce. I run into the bathroom, only to run right back out again in horror. Imagine what a toilet would look like in a crack den after a group of crackheads got high, had an orgy and died on top of it. That would be the best way to describe the condition this toilet was in. EW EW EW. I flipped on my boyfriend for not even having the common sense to clean the damn thing BEFORE I arrived (You do know I have to SIT DOWN when I pee, right!? Hot damn.) and forced him to take me to the nearest BK immediately before I peed my pants (and yes, this sadly was the cleaner option).

Fast forward a few months later and things are improving, but VERY slowly. I’m trying to be patient, but I start to get THAT tone with him, the “I’m a bitchy girlfriend” tone that I hate more than anything to use, but it’s hard to teach an old dog new tricks. I’ll admit, he will grudgingly do something after I ask him til I’m blue in the face and Saturdays have become our cleaning days when our apartment really needs it, but it’s not always enough. I think to myself “HOW can you not notice the filth?” and “HOW does it not bother you?” I’m almost jealous.

I’m not trying to make my boyfriend out to be a lazy bum, he has some pretty physical days at work and comes home feeling pretty beat, but I work a 40 hour week and I STILL come home and accomplish a bit of housework most days. I think(hope) he’s noticing and realizing that picking up after yourself should be part of the daily routine.

We recently found our new place that we’re moving into soon. It’s a nice size and in a great location, but the one downside? No dishwasher. And my boyfriend’s response? “.. but you’re the dishwasher, hunnie.” He was joking, of course, but STILL, it’s very close to reality. I know that with more time (and training), we’ll spend an equal amount of time doing housework, but I feel this is going to feel like this is going to mean a lot more use of “the tone”.

I consider myself an eternal optimist. But this optimist likes a clean living space and a freshly showered boyfriend, godammit! There’s always hope, right? Or will the woman always be destined to clean up after the dirty, stinky man?


No Glove, No Love


Rubbers. Jimmy Hats. Raincoats. Willie Warmers. Condoms. Call ‘em what you will. I like to call them the reason I’m not pregnant and I plan on staying that way until there is a ring on my finger, my own roof over my head and a hell of lot more money in my bank account.  Condoms are the reason Tarzan isn’t supporting his baby mama on a bank teller salary.  And the reason I am writing this article. Why, you may ask?

Because Tarzan has decided, unilaterally, that he no longer wishes to wear a condom when we do it like they do on the Discovery Channel. Which would be fine if I was on birth control. Except I’m not. I don’t have health insurance and can’t afford the extra 70 bucks a month for the script.

Tarzan says that they cut off his circulation and he can’t feel anything anymore. ANYMORE? We’ve been having amazing sex for the last year and half and now, all of a sudden, he can’t feel anything?  I offered to buy the Magnum Thin condoms, but he said he doesn’t trust them.  I offered to get the Magnum Extra Large ones and do you know what he said? “I’m a patient man. I can wait.” Well you know what?

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