M and I have lived in sin for about two years now, and I think the arrangement has generally been a great success. But today M did something that he’s never done before. He offered to vacuum without me nagging on him first. And as realization hit me, I was horrified. M is living with a woman, and it has broken him.
See, the thing is, I’ve lived with a woman. I know what it’s like. And I don’t recommend it. First, there’s the constant fighting over who cleans what. Women suffer from the ridiculous illusion that a house needs cleaning at least once a week, whether it’s dirty or not.
And when you’re living with a woman, slowly but surely every single surface in the house begins to fill with useless crap. In every damn corner there’s a plant in a cute teddy bear pot, and thousands of useless items meant solely for decoration, “I just had to buy this porcelain frog; it goes so well with the curtains.” And the curtains, carpets, bedding and towels all change once a week into a new and improved pastel color.
The bathroom cabinets are so full with products it’s a miracle if you can find your toothbrush; there’s hairsprays, lotions, weird soaps you’re not allowed to wash your hands with, and every person needs their own towel to dry their hands with. And if by some miracle you can find your toothbrush, you sure as hell can’t find anything else, because nothing ever stays in the same place for longer than a week. You’re supposed to leave your keys in the tiny pink key cabinet, but of course you won’t be able to do that, because even Barbie couldn’t fit her keys in that cabinet, so you’re really keeping your keys in a smelly old tin (got it at the flea market) with a lid that’s impossible to open. And the tin is kept on a dresser in the hallway, but even the dresser won’t stay in the same place for very long. “Hmm, let’s try it over there in the corner... no it doesn’t go with the cat statue, how about over there? No, the feng shui isn’t quite right..”
|Smelly old tins.|
You can never watch hockey, because oh my god, Sex and the City is on! And on the tv there’s scented candles. Actually, there’s scented candles on every horizontal surface, but whatever you do, do not light them because then they won’t look pretty anymore.
You can never have friends over without first baking and cleaning so people won’t think your apartment is a mess. And when you have people over, you have to drink your coffee or tee from tiny little pretty cups and asking for more is rude, and so is saying no thank you when actually offered a refill. And the coffee isn’t kept in its original packaging, no. It’s in a separate jar, as is everything else. Sugar, flour, salt and rice, everything has its own little jar that is incredibly unpractical and “so pretty!” And those jars keep moving around in the kitchen until you’re just choosing a jar at random and hoping for the best. Even the content of the jars change once a week.
Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan will be your new best friends, because every movie you’ll see is a romantic comedy, and because it’s completely impossible to watch a movie without doing your nails, washing your hair or writing a blog post at the same time, you’re continuously answering questions like “Who’s that?” “What’s he doing now and why can’t that guy in Seattle just take a sleeping pill?” And while you’re watching your romantic comedy you’ll hear all about what her friends did this weekend, and why their boyfriends didn’t like it.
In short, living with a woman sucks.
And now M’s living with a woman. Poor guy.*