My husband and I will celebrate our 12th wedding anniversary this April. Before we were married, we lived together in a tiny apartment for another two years. That’s fourteen years of being ‘up in each other’s bidnezz’ as they say on the streets. Quite a long time to spend being forced to share bathroom sink space and remote control possession. Boundaries are pushed to the limit and arguments happen. To survive (and because we love each other dearly), we’ve managed to learn each other’s habits and quirks well enough to know when to draw the line in the sand, and when to toss the damned stick aside and run like hell in the other direction. Most of the time, arguing is simply not worth it. We’ve learned to carefully tiptoe around the little piles of poop minefield, because really, we’re much too old and tired now to want to risk stepping in it. And once it hits the fan, well, the clean up is a bitch.
Sometimes no matter what the situation, I can get testy. The kind of testy that happens when you poke a sharp stick at a sleeping bear. It may or may not have to do with hormones, but I will let you in on this secret–mysteriously enough, it intensifies once a month. I’ll feel this gnawing ball of aggravation in the pit of my stomach that seems to have struck out of the clear blue sky. It’s not about anything specifically. It could be about anything, everything or nothing–most likely all three at once. Confused? That makes two of us. And this sudden black storm cloud of emotion churns and grows, finally blowing into a gigantic eruption of anger, which honestly, I have no control over. I am as surprised at my outburst of irritation as my husband. (Don’t tell him I said that.) Once the volcano starts, it just can’t be stopped. “Thar she blows! Run for your life!”
My husband is a good man. He’s smart, funny, loving. But he doesn’t know how to argue with me. We’ve had, on average, approximately one doozie of an argument every five years or so. We get it out of our system and settle back into the comfy trappings of marriage. It’s the little squabbles though, the ones about the endless laundry and errands–those are the ones he has trouble with to this day.
Most of the time, he doesn’t realize we were arguing. In fact, I’ve noticed that during the argument, he seems astounded as to what’s happening and therefore doesn’t know how to react. Even worse, he has no tools to help him cope with the inevitable fallout once I notice that after all my ranting and raving, he is still standing there like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming souped up mack truck filled with crazed hunters packing Uzis.
So men, I want to give you a few tips to help you through any argument–real or imagined. (First tip: they are all real to us.)
These tips might help you prevent an argument from even starting in the first place. We really don’t want to have to run you over like a Mack truck. But you make it so damn easy.
Let’s look at the anatomy of what starts out as an innocent ‘discussion’, shall we?
Scene: A married couple are in the kitchen after a long day at work. The woman is running around in circles attempting to make a dent in the disaster that is their home. The man is leaning on the counter, reading the newspaper, and eating chips and salsa over the sink.
Woman: Ugh! What the–? The dishes are clean?
Woman: The dishes!
Woman: Why are they still in the dishwasher?
Woman: I said, the DISHES! (Woman points at the dishwasher)
Man: What? (Man scoops up another salsa-laden chip and crams it in his mouth)
Woman: I thought they were dirty! But they’re clean and now I put the dirty dishes in and all the gross spaghetti sauce from the dinner I slaved over last night that you failed to help me clean up AGAIN spilled all over the clean glasses that YOU failed to empty AGAIN and why didn’t you empty them? Huh? Do I have to do everything? You just don’t CARE do you? No! If it wasn’t for me, this entire house would crumble around us! I have so many things to do all day and deal with the kids and my mother and the shopping and the cooking and the cleaning and then I come home and you don’t care that the dishes have to be cleaned again and why are you still standing there eating chips?! God! You’re dripping salsa all over the place! God! You drive me crazy! I am NOT cleaning THAT up! Oh, no! You’ve got another thing comin’ if you think I’ll clean up your mess! You can do it! And you know what else? YOU can reclean the dishes in the dishwasher! Yeah! How ’bout that, huh? I’m not the only one who’s tired, y’know? A little help from you would be nice, y’know? Give me those damn chips!
(Woman yanks chip bag out of the man’s hands)
Man: What? I don’t know what you want me to do! You took my chips! I…uh….why are you getting so mad? Why? What did I do?
Woman: AHHHHHHHH! God!
(Woman crumples the chip bag and throws it onto the counter. Salsa and chips scatter everywhere. Man’s mouth drops open.)
Okay. The first thing you may notice is the man had four golden opportunities to turn things around right from the start. Four chances to prevent a chip and salsa disaster. Instead, his responses just heightened the woman’s irritation, causing it to snowball into Armageddon within mere nanoseconds. Here’s what you need to do instead:
Rule No. 1: Pay attention. Focus. Figure out what she’s saying to you, immediately. Act like your life depends on it. You can tell by the tone of her voice how close she is to cracking. When you hear that voice, drop the chips, drop the salsa, drop everything.
Rule No. 2: Never act bewildered. Even if you don’t know what she’s talking about, just pretend you do. Nod your head. Empathize. Agree. You need to let her know you are on her side. And again, put the chips down.
Rule No. 3: Never answer in one word sentences. Never answer with another question.
Rule No. 4: Never stand there shoveling chips and salsa into your mouth while her life is spinning out of control right in front of you.
Rule No. 5: Never act like her meltdown is unfair. It may very well be blown out of proportion, but you need to match her emotions before she one ups you. Pretend you are just as upset. Say something like, “Oh no! The dishes! Oh, that’s terrible! God!”
Rule No. 6: Apologize, apologize, apologize. Even if it’s not your fault. Even if you know it was her turn with the dishes and you were the one who made the spaghetti sauce the night before. Just tell her you’re sorry. Over and over again.
Rule No. 7: If you see she’s still in a tizzy, step in and actually do the thing she’s asking you to do. Yes, clean the dishes for her. Tell her to go sit down on the couch for a minute and you’ll take care of it. Really, it’s just dishes. If you don’t offer to help, consider yourself signed up for a week long marathon of The Good and Pissed Off Wife.
Rule No. 8: Never ask her, “Why are you so mad?” This is the equivalent of dumping a can of gasoline on a roaring fire.
Rule No. 9: And for God’s sake, never, ever say, “What did I do?” That is a Pandora’s box you don’t want to bust open, trust me.
So now that you know these rules, let’s start the scene again:
Woman: Ugh! What the–? The dishes are clean?
Man: They are? Let me see. (Man puts the chip bag down on the counter and peers into the dishwasher) Oh, man! They ARE clean! I’m sorry. I must have forgotten to take them out. Don’t worry, I’ll take them out and get it all cleaned up. You go sit on the couch and watch some TV before dinner, okay? (Man starts taking the dishes out of the dishwasher)
Woman: Oh, that’s okay. I’ll help you. It was probably my fault.
Man: Oh, no. It was my fault. I’m sorry. I am really, really sorry. So very sorry.
Woman: That’s okay.
Man: No. I mean it. I am sorry.
(Woman and Man put dishes away together. Chip bag and salsa are intact.)
See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?
I have faith in you guys. I know you can do it. If you follow the above rules, I guarantee you’ll come out of every potential minor and major squabble (mostly) unscathed.
116 thoughts on “How (Not) to Argue with a Woman”
That was brilliant, and what an example you used well done. This should be mandatory reading for every man on earth. 😀
I certainly hope at least ONE man out there reads it, Mags. Hope you have a great weekend.
There is so much truth (and, dare I say it about such a post?) and magic in this post, but these are ones I feel should be printed and displayed prominently in the house a la government messages re: minimum wage at the officeplace:
Rule No. 8: Never ask her, “Why are you so mad?” This is the equivalent of dumping a can of gasoline on a roaring fire.
I’m kinda tempted to print out the whole thing, though. And distribute.
Ha! Deb, that would make me feel good. To think that if one man reads this, I just may have saved his life or marriage. (Or spare him the agony of having a bag of chips thrown at him for doing nothing at all.)
The DISHES? Are Clean?! the horror 🙂 Hilarious!
There is nothing more horrifying than realizing you’ve dumped spaghetti sauce all over perfectly clean dishes. Happens to me all the time. You’d think by now I’d realize it’s partly my fault.
These are so typical and great! Hahaha! Hilarious… You have to check out Tylertarver.com and see today’s video “Stuff girls say and what they really mean.”
I’ll check that out, thanks Susie. I could use a good laugh today (it’s miserable, cold and rainy and I’m sick again, blah)
You need to come out for a weekend! It is sunny and in the 70’s! I hope you are feeling better…
I would love that, Susie. It will hit mid-70s next week here so I plan to soak up the sun. I am feeling much better today–thank you!
Love it – This should be part of the “health class” that they teach to kids in school – these are important skills to develop at an early age! Can’t help but think some mother / son arguments could be avoided by using the same tactics.
Y’know–you are right. Why, these simple rules could help men out in every stage of their lives! Think of all the pain and suffering they could avoid!
OMG Darla you so Rock! Exactly!!! Well said…now if they’d only head the advice.
One of my many fav’s from this post: “And once it hits the fan, well, the clean up is a bitch.”
Totally in love with the new header. Holy crap. Nice.
If ONLY they’re read this and let some of it sink in so they’d remember it next time the volcano is about to blow. I pray. I really do pray they get it.
Thanks about the header but, of course, I did not take that picture. It was a free header I downloaded. I have taken a picture of the exact same scene, but wouldn’t ya know it, it looks crappy compared to this one.
Ya, praying with you here.
Hey, one thing is for sure: you have good taste in headers.
Hmm…Okay, you totally know what I mean.
Oh my goodness, this was a riot! I have been absent for a while, but very glad to be back on your blog again. I really think you should be writing a book 🙂
Hey, Chrissy! Good to see you again. Hope you stick around. Funny you’d say that because I am writing a book. My one main goal before I die. I start next week and plan on writing every day for six months come hell or high water. (I’ve got my wadin’ pants on just in case…)
Bwaa haa haa!! Simply fabulous. Reminded me of the time that Dh was putting dirty dishes into the dishwasher full of clean dishes. He got a little perturbed, but not too bad.
One tip for when this mood seems to come and not go away- when you want to pinch the head off everyone around you 24/7/365 and you break out like you’re a teenager: time for hormonal support. When that stage hits, run, don’t walk, to your doc and demand hormones. Totally worked for me.
One question: will your husband read this piece?
What IS it with the dishes? You’d think after doing about 3 or 4 million loads, we’d be able to tell if they’re clean or dirty by now.
As for the hormonal problem…I am just bracing for menopause. Just shuffling through the crap now until I can’t stand it no longer (or my husband can’t)
And no. My husband will NEVER read this. He has never read anything on my blog. My in-laws read it. My cousin reads it. But my own husband? Nope. I think he’s too afraid and I can see his point.
This is vital, life-saving information here, Darla. I’m with Deb – it should be prominently posted everywhere. I would add rule #10: Never, ever say “Is it that time of the month?” That implies that we women are nothing but uncontrollably emotional lumps of hormones walking around in sweatpants. That phrase is to be especially avoided if it IS that time of the month..
I did that the other day; putting the dirty dishes in the clean dishwasher. I don’t know WHY I didn’t remember they were clean, since I was the one who cleared the table and I was the one who loaded the dishwasher. Chances were pretty slim that all my dishes and cutlery would suddenly turn into the dishes from Beauty & The Beast and sing and dance their way into the cupboards, therefore, it was a pretty sure bet that the clean dishes would still be sitting there until I unloaded them. There wasn’t even anybody else in the kitchen at the time to dump my frustration on when it occurred to me (after 4 plates and 5 cups) that I just dripped slime all over the clean stuff.
Where’s that damn salsa?
Back when we were first married, my husband used to say, “Is it that time again?” After he picked himself up off the floor more than a few times, he came to realize: not a good question to ask.
So you dump slime on the clean dishes, too? Here I was thinking I was the only idiot who does that (all the time) I often wonder why the plates didn’t put themselves away. Why my little magical elves didn’t do the job like they’re supposed to. Just like the laundry. I open up the dryer and I am always genuinely shocked there are clothes in there. Actually, I think I’d faint dead away if there weren’t any clothes in there.
If my underwear didn’t live in my dryer they’d be homeless.
Hilarious as always, Darla! You have a knack for getting to the heart of relationship issues. Great job dissecting the argument, and offering the “proper” way of handling it! I will forward this to my husband, so he realizes I’m completely “normal.” 😉
We, too, will have our 12 year anniversary this year. We met day one in college, so we’ve known each other for 17 now. Yikes. And what you wrote could easily be recast with my husband and myself. I wrote a post once, about this issue, when my husband did such an unbelievably nice thing I couldn’t have felt more like an ass. Here’s the opener:
“I may have been in a bit of a funk the other night. My husband came into the kitchen and said, ‘Wow. That smells good.’
So I yelled at him to wash the dishes because I didn’t have any place to cook and how could he just stand there when our daughter was screaming that she had to go potty and stop looking at my hair it looked much better before he came home.
He walked over to the cabinet, took out a bag of Dove chocolates, and started rubbing it on my back. Like it was an ice pack. To soothe me, or something.
Well, it worked. The act was so ridiculous I couldn’t help but smile. And I realized, chocolate really does make everything better.”
Hope my kinship with your outbursts makes you smile like your story did for me. 🙂
Wow, 17 years. Congratulations, Melissa. Isn’t it crazy we are at the age when we can say things like, 17 years ago….? (My 25th high school reunion is next year and I’m still in denial.)
Your story did bring a big smile to my face. Your husband is very wise. Chocolate does make everything better. My husband does know that little secret, for sure. I think his main problem is he doesn’t react fast enough when I’m in a super bitchy mood. I asked him why he just stands there and says, “uh” or “Huh?” and he told me it’s because he’s afraid of me in that moment. He said he doesn’t know what to say. Ha! Can’t say as I blame him there.
Chocolate is my ultimate-need-it-gotta-have-it food. I’m not even sure if it’s fair to call it a food, as it is much more vaulted in my mind. I don’t drink coffee, so to me, chocolate is my I-need-to-stay-awake answer. One time in college, I was writing a paper with a box of Kudos next to me. Remember those? So I opened the box, ate one, and wrote away. Before I knew it, the paper was almost done! Time for one more Kudos to celebrate. I put my hand back in the box and it was empty.
I remember being in such shock! My roommates weren’t home, the box had been new, and somehow I’d entered into a chocolate writing trance and eaten the entire box.
What? I’m sorry, I was reading your story about Kudos and reached into my 10 pound bag of peanut butter cups and realized my kids must have eaten the entire thing while I was distracted.
You have saved many a marriage with this piece, Darla. Not to mention many a chip and jar of salsa.
Love the new look — Acadia in just a few months, I can’t wait!
Yes, I am all about saving me some salsa. It’s good stuff!
How nice you can make a trip up there! We are planning another trip there this fall. We like to go when the tourists (I guess that means you…) leave and the leaves turn color. It’s so peaceful and gorgeous. Plus they have Bar Harbor Blueberry Ale that is to die for…
I may just take that personally. I’ll probably go up 3-4 times this summer for as long as I can stay. It’s wonderful, wonderful….. maybe we can meet for coffee on the way (I promise, I am not an axe-murderer).
Coffee? With you?? I am so there. As long as you can promise me your name really isn’t Carl and you’re a 60 year old truck driver.
This will be so great. We can sip java and gossip about Angie!
You and Elyse are killing me right now. Killing me! You know how much I like coffee and gossiping. And I despise that Angie chick. I heard she’s not even a chick.
Yes. Be very jealous, Angie. If that’s your real name.
I had the apology waterfall down solid until I met my wife. “I’m really sorry,” I say. She replies, “No you’re not. If you were actually sorry you wouldn’t have done it in the first place.”
Then I’m mad for two reasons, and have nowhere to go in the conversation.
Ooh! Yikes! Hmm…that is a conundrum. A quandary even. What do you do? Scratch your head and walk away (quickly)? Your wife is Good. I should try that on my husband now…
And yet another reminder of why the single life’s for me…:). (joking). Great suggestions and great post. Do these however fall into the “old dog new trick” category???.Happy week end.
Well, if you are single or live alone, I think there’s a lot of great things about it. I do miss those single days when I lived on my own. Lots less arguing. Unless you have a really moody cat that can talk back.
I do think the old dog new trick is accurate. My husband has made great gains over the years though, so I have to give him lots of credit. I do feel for the man, I really do. After my outbursts I always feel a little bad.
And a happy weekend to you as well!
Well, before I forget, let me wish you an early Happy Anniversary! 🙂
This is hilarious. I can relate in so many ways, although Peppermeister is more likely to get heated right back. So on the plus side, he knows exactly what I’m talking about when I freak out (and sometimes it is his fault and he apologizes right away), but on the downside, he’ll dish it (pun intended, har har) right back. He is a MASTER arguer. It really ticks me off. LOL
Oh and I almost forgot! LOVE the new banner – gorgeous! 🙂
Oh, so he dishes it right back? Yeah, my husband used to do the same back in our early years. Oh, those were the days! We’d both argue, instead of it being mostly one-sided. How long have you guys been married now? I have a feeling Peppermeister will get worn down a little as the years go by and he’ll eventually end up standing there eating salsa and saying, “What did I do?”
Thanks about the banner. Not my picture, just a free header download. But I sure do love it, very peaceful. I was sick of my winter header pic (which I did take because it was of crappier quality…)
You take gorgeous pictures – I was sure it was another one of yours! Ed and I have been together for 9 years (married for almost 4, lived together for 6). I wonder if he’ll ever get tired of fighting back…LOL
Maybe not, you never know. But since you’ve only been up in each other’s bidnezz six years, I’d say you have a good chance he will give up after another six years.
Lol.. Loved this.. So very true. I really want my husband to read this. We are going on 13 years married so I totally get it. And why is it so hard to explain those feelings. You hit the nail on head. And why does my husband argue back.. I keep trying to tell him to take after the saying “the woman is always right! “
Please, send it to him. He’ll probably hate it at first, but he’ll see it’s all in his best interest. I just don’t want any more men out there hurt unnecessarily by flying salsa, that’s all. We really can’t help ourselves sometimes.
If he comes home with a snickers bar or a chocolate covered donut…he wins!
He knows that trick very well. “Yes, you are steaming mad at me, honey–but I brought you some chocolate ice cream!”
All husbands should read this. A happy wife, happy life – as they say.
Now that is a rule I can live with, Louise.
You know what they say. When the chips are down … run man! Don’t look back just RUN! Toss chocolates over your shoulder as you make an Indiana Jones style dive beneath the closing garage door. Just Run! RUN!!
Maybe your advice is better Darla.
Ha! I don’t know, Ape. Your advice sounds like it would make a pretty kick-ass movie.
Finally, I have something written by someone other than me!! I can show this to Rob and he’ll see I’m not the only one! Thank you, Darla! Thank you, thank you, thank you!
The fact that you included examples makes it all the better. Men need the visuals.
Seriously, this is brilliant. You are a wonderful writer.
Visuals! Yeah! I forgot to add my lovely diagrams this time around. That would have helped them big time. Good luck getting Rob to read this, I have my hopes someone out there will ‘get it’ finally.
And thank you, Lenore. I’ve been wanting to write this forever but couldn’t get it started. Funny how once I got going, the words just spewed out…
oh lord I too can’t understand how a normal functioning human being can do the dirty dishes into the clean dishwasher “trick” … I learned to say “oh well” and call it a “trick” and just switch on the machine again.
I love your new look Darla.
On a normal day, I would probably just turn on the dishwasher again, but sometimes, my husband can breathe wrong and that is all it takes for me to snap. It ain’t pretty, but it’s the truth.
I love my new look, too…the hairdresser took off a bit too much but…Oh. You mean my blog! Thank you. I like it–it’s simple and calm. I need more of that in my life. Enjoy your weekend, Rosie!
Love this! In my marital world, this point in time is called the Tuesday before the Thursday, even if my period comes on a Saturday. When it’s the Tuesday before the Thursday you need to step back. No matter who you are. I’ve been known to rip a rental car agent to SHREDS on that fateful day.
We can pinpoint that fateful day in advance, can’t we? When I wake up in the morning, and I know it’s That Day, I warn my husband right away. I’ve got to give him a little bit of a running start, don’t I?
Pinpointing would be nice. Regular periods would be nicer. =p
I have no experience whatsoever, but I think Rule No. 5 is The Golden Rule
I agree. If my husband matches my anger with disinterest, it’s all over. There is nothing more annoying than getting all worked up and your husband is just standing there eating chips. This is why it’s so important to have girlfriends to commiserate with when the going gets tough. They get it, they understand where you’re coming from…granted, you’re coming from a dark, scary place that most men can’t handle in the first place.
For most couples, that second response out of their mate would likely result in a trip to the emergency room or to the police station to report the kidnapping of her real husband. You can hope for change. That’s about it. I remember coming home from my hour long drive to work, walking in the kitchen and once again not finding dinner made by the ex-hubby who was going to school at the time. So, lots of free time on his hands. I shrieked (yes, it wasn’t graceful), “Couldn’t you take the time to make something – anything?!” He responded with much fear in his eyes, “Uh, uh, I couldn’t! You hid all the ingredients!” Sometimes it’s best they just don’t say anything.
Wow that is a very creative (and bold) response. I think that may be why my husband hesitates to say anything other than “what?” at first because he’s trying to figure out what he can say that will not piss me off more. To give him credit, he does plenty around the house. Some days I’m afraid it doesn’t matter what he does, he could breathe wrong and I’d be ticked.
Of course no matter how many men read it, absorb it even possibly remember it for some future time they will only remember it for dishes….everything else will still be left open for interpretation and epic failure.
Sad but true. If my husband read it, he’d remember it had something to do with chips and salsa.
SUCH a good point!
True story. One day, fairly recently, I walked out the front door of our home and shepherded our three young children into our Chevy Tahoe, got them all buckled into their car seats and then walked back to the front door to see if my wife needed help carrying any remaining items to the vehicle. I was met at the front door by my wife who immediately began yelling at me for not closing the door behind her…while she was just exiting…and was actually still in the path of the doorway. What would your advice be to me if I got a do-over? Oh and did I mention that she is now my S2BX wife?
Well, I assume you have no superpowers or abilities to dispense huge amounts of chocolate at will? Your situation is a tricky one. Obviously, you should have closed the door before she even exited through it–sure, this entails bending the basic laws of physics a little. What? You’re not up to that challenge? My verdict is: you’re screwed.
That’s what I figured. It took 19 years for her brain to crack, so her warranty was expired. Oh well, time to get a new wife.
Thanks for the advice.
That ‘once a month’ time of high annoyance and super aggravation are all too real to most of us. Yikes. You have spoken for us all.
I think somebody had to! All the guilt I’ve had over the years has enabled me to finally admit to men everywhere that they really are in trouble once a month.
Hey, Darla – your response to last week’s Weekly Question of the Week, about what the government is doing with all the hours it takes, is one of the finalists!
You should begin the relentless self-promotion and voting for yourself – the poll is on my main page right now. I’m still working on the formatting, though, so this may change.
Sweet! I’ll be sure to check it out so I can see that I’m losing miserably.
Nice post Darla. The best thing about this post is, the list of rules and the worst thing is that, these rules are too much difficult to follow. 🙂
ha! You just made me spit out my coffee, Arindam. You are too funny. Have a fantastic week.
Judging by your other comments, I think you’ve been unofficially named spokesperson for Wives Incorporated. My husband is also all thumbs when it comes to arguing. Here’s why. He’s logical. Insanely logical. He can remove all emotion/drama from an argument and stay 100% calm and focused on resolving it — to the point that I would have to poke him with a barbecue skewer to get him to respond with the same level of outrage I’m experiencing. The nerve of him. It’s a wonder we’re even still happily married.
Grrr…I know. How dare they stand there and act normal? The nerve of them to try and actually remain rational. God! that really pisses me off.
I sure don’t miss those emotion-filled drama days. There IS life after 50…a good life!
Oh, Patti–and do I look forward to that glorious day!
I love the rules, but I recently discovered why they won’t work. (It’s a long held theory I’ve had, but recently, my beloved admitted it was true). It won’t work because at the beginning of scene…”Ugh…what the….”
The man has tuned out. He will not hear the rest of the dialogue. He’ll tune in ever now and then (arm waving helps get his attention), but after hearing a few words, he tunes right back out.
It was a valiant try. Perhaps the next generation can be trained.
(also, it was hilarious).
You are right, Barb. He will only pick up on the tone of my voice, my frantic pointing, the ticked-off expression on my face. Maybe he’ll hear a few words, but they’ll only be the “ugh!”s and “gah”s and all of this just translates to, ‘Get out while you can, man! Run for your life!’
Only a couple of male responses, silence speaks volumes 🙂
Ha! I noticed that right away, Joe. Verrrrry interesting. But you responded! With a response about not responding. Hmmm….
I’ve one myself, I do all the work.
Oh? So this is an epidemic?
Sadly, I think it is, Priya. I grew up with so many brothers, and they all had no clue how to argue. So I have to come to the conclusion that it’s fairly common among men.
Too funny! I would be stunned to silence to hear my husband know how to fight about the little things…let alone know that’s what’s happening. Thankfully the big fights are once in a blue moon 🙂 Loved this post.
I don’t think my husband will ever really ‘get it’. Even if he were to read this post, I think he’s simply afraid when I’m in that kind of mood so his brain goes blank. And he keeps shoveling in the chips and salsa hoping it’ll go away.
Ha, ha, ha! I feel so terrible for our poor male counterparts…really…but I’m cracking up not only because this post hit the nail on the head but because-not being married anymore and not having to put any male through these types of escapades-my boyfriend emailed me yesterday in response to me saying, “well, I’ll look forward to when we get to spend more than a couple of hours together”. He said, “We aren’t going anywhere, right, and you don’t want anything more than what we have right now, right, ’cause I’m very happy [with the way things are].” Ha, ha! I thought to myself after reading this post, yep, he’s gotta be ecstatic! Only seeing each other once a week for a couple of hours pretty much negates any blow-ups over the dishes, LOL. Love it, Darla-you are the best!
Sheesh…after reading about you and your boyfriend it makes me wonder why I got married. Or why I live with him. 😉 I’m amazed we’ve made it this far after 14 years of dishes. I do feel for the man. My parents were married almost 25 years. My dad used to shake his head and say to me, “When it comes to your mother, you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t.” I think that pretty much covers marriage, doesn’t it? Happy you enjoyed this, I sure did. Felt good to get it out into the open.
Hilarious because it’s so damn true. I always tell my husband, “When doubt, just say you’re sorry.” 🙂
I think that is the golden rule for sure, Nancy.
Judging from the number of comments you received on this, I think this struck a chord. Men are so clueless as too why we get irritated with them. My husband will rinse the dishes after dinner and put them in the dishwasher, but anything that requires actuall washing by hand cannot, apparently, be done by a man. So then I wash all the posts and pans and good knives and cutting boards, wipe down all the counters and stove top until everything sparkles, and scrub the sink out with disinfectant. After I’m finally done and go sit down, he pours himself a glass of milk, guzzles it down, and then leaves the glass on the counter. On. The. Counter. Since you are a woman, I do not have to explain. Great post, Darla.
Hahaha! Oh, Susan, you totally hit the nail on the head with the counter thing. yes! That drives me absolutely batty. After I get the kitchen sparkling clean, I’ll sit down to watch TV, my husband will go make some toast and leave a disaster of bread crumbs, bread sweat and gobs of butter all over the counter. Grrrrrr!
why are they so thick, Darla! Double Grrrrrrr!
And my favorite thing is when I see the toast mess all over the place he says the same thing every time, “I’ll clean it up! What’s the big deal?” The big deal is he either never cleans it up, or waits until the next day to clean it up. I’ve left messes on the stove before (he makes eggs every morning) just to see how long it’ll be before he’s motivated to clean it up. Do you know how hard it is to remove 2 day old egg from the stovetop? You need a sandblaster.
Oh no, it’s a “common” male thing 😦 The next day I hold up the twist tie and exclaim, “Are you going to be using this again or should I throw it away?” What is so amusing (kind and loving word choice) to me is that he really believes he cleans up after himself.
I tried the “how long can I NOT pick it up” game and lasted 2 weeks. Finally I asked him, “Would you like to keep these empty beer bottles on the counter for another week or will you recycle them today?” He looked at me like I was exaggerating then realized after he performed a quick and silent mathematical equation (proof of evolvement of understanding females) he should clean up the counter.
Just last week he left a ginger ale can IN the sink. I don’t know whether he thought we own an industrial-strength garbage disposal, or if he thought the little magical elves that clean the house were on vacation or what. So I left that can in there to see what would happen. You can probably guess. It stayed in there for over a day before I couldn’t take it any longer and picked it up and made a big stink about how he left it in there and should have put it in the recycle bin like a normal person.
This is perfect! Really, it should be so simple. Thank you for averting many future chips and salsa disasters. 🙂
It should be simple, Dana. Sigh.
Just wanted to suggest if you’re quite finished with all the fun and giggles of this truly hysterical post, you could pop round my blog to check out The Jacket Writing Competition. Your entry is in the finals and voting starts today. Congrats!
Yahoo!! That is great news, Peg. Now I just have to stop myself from checking the voting stats to see I am losing miserably. (I’ve had practice with that lately, what with Paul’s caption contests…) Thanks for running such a cool contest, Pegoliciousness! Geesh, this has been a great day so far. Went off shopping at Target by myself this afternoon (never happens), my husband’s making me a delicious dinner tonight, I’ve got some white wine chillin’ in the fridge AND now this?!
Better send that wine my way – I know you are a total lightweight and can’t handle your liquor.
It’s in the 70s here, sunny and it’s almost 5 on a Friday. I’m headin’ out for dinner with friends and the hubster and a couple of glasses of the fermented, fruity stuff myself. It’s all good, Darlicity!
Ah, yes…those potent grapes tasted awfully fine over a lasagna dinner last night. Hope you had a grand ol’ time out on the town with the hubs and your friends last night! Off to check out The Jacket post and see how far behind I am in the voting.
Darla – this post is perfection!! Sweet Cheeks was worn down many years ago. He responds to the tone and volume of my voice, but probably couldn’t tell you anything I have said in the last 32 years. Kind of like our dog. But he is a good soul, listens to my tirades, apologizes, corrects, genuflects – then runs to his man cave (the garage, where he has a recliner, a refrigerator full of beer, a stereo and NO WIFE).
See, that is what Jim needs, a man cave! We have a garage but it’s currently housing our car. I suppose I could build him a little treehouse in the backyard but I’m not sure the extension cord to his little fridge full of beer would reach. But since you guys have been married so long and still going strong I think I have to invest in another extension cord.
I’d invest in it if I were you. He also gets WiFi out there, so he drags his laptop out there. If he isn’t going to actually HELP me or LISTEN to me the least he can do is get out of my sight.
If he isn’t going to actually HELP me or LISTEN to me the least he can do is get out of my sight.
This should be a required vow at every couple’s wedding. “Do you promise to get out of her sight if you’re useless and/or clueless?”
Or, perhaps another card?
I love you, dear
And I don’t want to fight.
But if you can’t help or listen
Get out of my sight.
I’d like to order a box of those, please. Personalized.
For the life of me, I cannot imagine why greeting card companies are not beating down my door.
What name shall I put on the cards?
I’ll take a couple boxes!
I think after I get off this damned computer, I’m going to march right up to my dear sweet hubby and repeat that little poem to him and tell him you told me to.
Yes, do that. But hand him a bag of chips and whatever salsa survived…
Oh, so I can’t throw the bag of chips this time around? Dammit…
What I have learned in 32 years of marriage is that my husband will endure all kinds of abuse as long as there is food coming his way…
I just had this flash of my husband sitting on the couch and me standing there nagging him, while pausing to throw a chip up in the air here and there so he can catch them in his open mouth.
Printed and posted in our bathroom for his easy reference. I consider this post to be a public service announcements and I am grateful. 🙂
My wife will be encouraged that I am doing something—to stop arguing.