And yet, we love them *UPDATED*
Over the last 5 years, I have lived with a male, or males on a regular basis. Ryan and I moved in together for the first time in 2000, and when I went to grad school I shared an apartment for one and ONLY one semester with a couple of our friends who also happen to be guys (quite possibly the most annoying 4 months of my life, it was like I was the mother to 2 children who wanted to drink all the time and eat sausages and make an extreme amount of noise and knock on my door while I was napping). Here’s what I’ve learned about co-habituating with the male species.
No matter how hard you try, you cannot train them. It has to be done at an early age, by their mother. Case in point, Ryan. He always puts the seat down after peeing. I know lots of men who don’t, because their mother didn’t train them properly. Men who come to my house, pee, and when I go into my bathroom I almost fall into the toilet because I’m so used to having a motherfucking seat to sit on (nobody I hang out with on a regular basis, thankfully). This toilet seat training starts at a young age, so mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be non-toilet seat putter down pissers.
Some men just can’t clean bathrooms. In the 5 years that I’ve lived with Ryan, he has never once cleaned the bathroom, and I know if he did, I’d have to clean it all over again because he’d do a half assed job. It doesn’t bother me to clean the bathroom, because I know it will be clean when I’m done.
When you feel like snuggling or watching a movie, more than likely some kind of manly television event will be on, like football or wrestling.
Men can’t poop in less than 20 minutes. There has to be an ample stack of magazines or a newspaper and god forbid, DO NOT KNOCK ON THE DOOR. Some men feel differently about conversing while on the shitter, but the constant thing is the time spent pooping and the reading material.
Men don’t vacuum. They don’t even know where we keep the vacuum or what it does. If there’s dirt on the floor, they rub it in with their foot.
Men don’t know how to put their own clothes away. That’s because their mommies used to do it for them. We have become their mommies, and we constantly have to pick their dirty socks off the living room floor and put them in the proper place. Ryan does his own laundry (cause god forbid, I might wash his wallet) but he never ever puts the clothes away once they are removed from the dryer. His side of the closet is literally getting emptier and emptier. Soon all his clothes will be in a basket on his side of the bed and I’ll have the closet all to myself.
Every once in a while, you’ll find a real gem of a man who does housework, like my dad. But beware, ladies, because he’s faulty. Not only would my dad clean the house, he’d bake you a pie. But if you left ONE DISH in the sink instead of putting it in the dishwasher, you’d better run for the hills. And once he retires, forget it. He’ll throw a load of laundry in every once in a while, but he’ll forget it’s there. His butt will be permanently glued to a chair and his hand will be permanently glued to a remote.
I’m not saying women are perfect. Ryan would have a lot to say about me and my faults. Like, I don’t take out the garbage (lie) and I don’t put out the recycling (lie). Those are just things I don’t do as often as he does. He does our bills (but I’m slowly taking over that responsibility) and at least once a week he’ll do the dishes and cook dinner (which I do every night during the week). I also do ALL the housework AND work full time AND I’m carrying a child. I’m perfectly fine with this. I don’t know how I became so Stepford. I even want sex more than my husband is willing to give. I’m the perfect woman.
Oh, how I love that man of mine.
And guess what I got last night? A MOTHERFUCKER of a MINI VAN. I totally need one of those "if this van is a rockin' don't come a knockin'" bumper stickers.
(Can you believe someone with this maturity level is going to bring a child into the world? The shame.)
* Men, a sure fire way to get laid... clean for your significant other. And do a good job. Scrub the floors, dust, vacuum, clean the tub, shower, and sink. If my husband did this for me, he wouldn't even begin to know what he had coming. If he thought it was good before...
No matter how hard you try, you cannot train them. It has to be done at an early age, by their mother. Case in point, Ryan. He always puts the seat down after peeing. I know lots of men who don’t, because their mother didn’t train them properly. Men who come to my house, pee, and when I go into my bathroom I almost fall into the toilet because I’m so used to having a motherfucking seat to sit on (nobody I hang out with on a regular basis, thankfully). This toilet seat training starts at a young age, so mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be non-toilet seat putter down pissers.
Some men just can’t clean bathrooms. In the 5 years that I’ve lived with Ryan, he has never once cleaned the bathroom, and I know if he did, I’d have to clean it all over again because he’d do a half assed job. It doesn’t bother me to clean the bathroom, because I know it will be clean when I’m done.
When you feel like snuggling or watching a movie, more than likely some kind of manly television event will be on, like football or wrestling.
Men can’t poop in less than 20 minutes. There has to be an ample stack of magazines or a newspaper and god forbid, DO NOT KNOCK ON THE DOOR. Some men feel differently about conversing while on the shitter, but the constant thing is the time spent pooping and the reading material.
Men don’t vacuum. They don’t even know where we keep the vacuum or what it does. If there’s dirt on the floor, they rub it in with their foot.
Men don’t know how to put their own clothes away. That’s because their mommies used to do it for them. We have become their mommies, and we constantly have to pick their dirty socks off the living room floor and put them in the proper place. Ryan does his own laundry (cause god forbid, I might wash his wallet) but he never ever puts the clothes away once they are removed from the dryer. His side of the closet is literally getting emptier and emptier. Soon all his clothes will be in a basket on his side of the bed and I’ll have the closet all to myself.
Every once in a while, you’ll find a real gem of a man who does housework, like my dad. But beware, ladies, because he’s faulty. Not only would my dad clean the house, he’d bake you a pie. But if you left ONE DISH in the sink instead of putting it in the dishwasher, you’d better run for the hills. And once he retires, forget it. He’ll throw a load of laundry in every once in a while, but he’ll forget it’s there. His butt will be permanently glued to a chair and his hand will be permanently glued to a remote.
I’m not saying women are perfect. Ryan would have a lot to say about me and my faults. Like, I don’t take out the garbage (lie) and I don’t put out the recycling (lie). Those are just things I don’t do as often as he does. He does our bills (but I’m slowly taking over that responsibility) and at least once a week he’ll do the dishes and cook dinner (which I do every night during the week). I also do ALL the housework AND work full time AND I’m carrying a child. I’m perfectly fine with this. I don’t know how I became so Stepford. I even want sex more than my husband is willing to give. I’m the perfect woman.
Oh, how I love that man of mine.
And guess what I got last night? A MOTHERFUCKER of a MINI VAN. I totally need one of those "if this van is a rockin' don't come a knockin'" bumper stickers.
(Can you believe someone with this maturity level is going to bring a child into the world? The shame.)
* Men, a sure fire way to get laid... clean for your significant other. And do a good job. Scrub the floors, dust, vacuum, clean the tub, shower, and sink. If my husband did this for me, he wouldn't even begin to know what he had coming. If he thought it was good before...
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