The Ten Things Men and Women Need to Stop Doing In Relationships

If there’s one thing I learned at the end of a 6 1/2 year relationship it’s that you have to pick your battles. 

I get that you might feel right. You might feel justified. You might be applying so deep meaning to what appears, on its a face, a very trivial issue. You might be compelled to explain your feelings to your partner for the next three hours. Really hash things out.

What the fuck for? You could just drop it and make the sex. Aww yiss.

Less bitching. More talking. Here’s how.

 

LADIES

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1. Stop giving a shit about the toilet seat.

Who. Gives. A fuck? Is this really something you need to spend time discussing? No, it’s not the principle of the thing. No, it’s not a matter of respect. No, it’s not his responsibility. Look before you sit down. Just like they look before they pee. Why is this such an issue?

 

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2. Stop saying you’re fine when you’re not.

You aren’t fooling anyone, you know that right? He knows you’re not fine. Stop saying you’re fine. Grow up and tell him what’s wrong and quit making him walk on eggshells. In the grown up world, we call that communication.

 

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3. Stop picking fights during Guys’ Night.

You said he could go out. You encouraged it. You were all cool about it, like, “aww, baby, sure, you deserve some time off!” And now you wanna blow up his phone all, “I NEED SOMEONE TO HELP ME WITH THESE KIDS” and “WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU PUT ALL THE COFFEE FILTERS?!” and “YOU SELFISH BASTARD, YOU NEVER THINK OF ANYONE BUT YOURSELF!” lolwut? You don’t just sound crazy – you are being crazy. Knock it off.

 

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4. Stop assuming he’s insulting you.

Sometimes guys don’t talk the words real good. But if this man really thought you were a fat, hideous she-beast, why would he be sticking it to you in the first place? If a joke crosses the line, tell him so – but not like a rage-fueled cunt. If it’s just poor phrasing, fucking let it go.

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5. Stop expecting to be treated like royalty.

This just in: you are the princess of fuck all. Yeah, I know, every woman wants a boyfriend who will shower her with love and affection and shiny things and will bring her breakfast in bed and whatever else you think signifies true devotion.Tough shit – you’re not a fucking princess anymore than he’s a prince. You both fart, and are assholes, and forget to put your dishes in the sink, and swear too much, and your feet smell when they get hot and sweaty. In short – you are human. And while you have every right to demand that you are treated as such, stop expecting to have your ass kissed just because you have a vag.

 

GENTLEMEN

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1. Stop fucking up our shit.

It really doesn’t make a bit of difference to us if you don’t understand why there are guest towels and house towels, or why there is fancy soap you’re not allowed to use, or why you can’t use the good dishes to microwave nachos. You don’t need to understand. Just respect our request to leave that shit alone and we’ll stop setting your ties on fire.

 

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2. Stop telling us that there’s a “better” ways to do things.

It might be your way, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s better. If we’re getting the task done just as efficiently and thoroughly as you do, then what the hell do you care? Besides, if you keep pushing it, we’ll just make you do whatever it is.

 

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3. Stop bitching about prep time.

Oh, I’m sorry, does it bother you that I’d like to step out of the house in something other than gym shorts and bedhead? I know that totally works for you, but I personally would rather not go to lunch looking like a hobo’s asshole. And by the way, that old line, “you look beautiful no matter what” is fucking annoying. Stop saying it, because we all know it’s just a weak attempt to get us out of the house faster.

 

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4. Stop treating us like bros.

No, we don’t want to be farted on. No, we don’t want to take shots for every kill we get in Halo 4. No, we don’t want to watch a marathon of American Ninja Warrior. Maybe sometimes that stuff is okay and we’ll indulge you, but that first indulgence does not mean we want to put on our favorite Affliction shirt and go pick up on bitches. We are ladies. Please treat us as such.

 

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5. Stop playing dumb.

You are not Peter Griffin. We know you’re not an idiot. If you can’t remember shit, put reminders in your phone. Make yourself a list. Get a fucking whiteboard. If you didn’t take out the trash, admit that it’s because you were playing Battlefield all day – don’t tell us it’s because you were trying to fix the dishwasher or you were on the phone with important clients all day. We know it’s bullshit. We can see it on your fucking face.

 

 

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Bitches Be Crazy

Gentlemen, your attention please, because I am going to provide you with some rare insight into the female psyche.

I’m not saying women will become less of a mystery to you, or that you’ll walk away feeling like you’ve gained some sort of innate knowledge about the opposite sex. In fact, you will probably end up more confused. Or possibly gay. But whatever, I’m hilarious, and this shit is totes legit.

PART I.

SITUATION: Our pretty, skinny friend tells us she’s pregnant.

What we say: Oh my gosh, yay! Sooo happy for you!

What we think: lolzomg, she’s gonna get soooo fat.

SITUATION: A male friend that we’re interested in starts telling us about a chick he met and is in to.

What we say: Hey, good for you! She sounds awesome! I can’t wait to meet her!

What we think: She sounds like a cunt! I can’t wait to run her over with my car!

SITUATION: Our boss tells us someone complained that a shirt we wore showed too much cleavage.

What we say: Wow, I’m sorry. I’ll make sure not to wear it again.

What we think: I bet it was that flat-chested bitch that sits across from me. She wishes she had sweet-ass titties like these.

SITUATION: A friend cries on our shoulder because her boyfriend dumped her for the 18th time.

What we say: Oh, honey, it’s gonna be okay. He doesn’t deserve you.

What we think: You’re both fucking idiots and you deserve each other.

SITUATION: Between the ages of 25-35, a teenager bumps in to us and says, ‘Excuse me, ma’am’.

What we say: That’s okay.

What we think: Ma’am?! FUCK. YOU.

Part II.

What we say: Where do you want to go out for dinner, babe?

What we mean: Tell me where I want to go for dinner. Choose wisely, or I’ll be bringing it up once every couple of months for the next five years.

What we say: Of course you can go to that party. Go have some guy time!

What we mean: Although I’d prefer that you stay here and watch Grey’s Anatomy reruns with me and my cat, I have the inexplicable compulsion to prove that I am way cooler than all of your friends’ girlfriends, even though I hate most of your friends and their girlfriends.

What we say: Honey, you look tired. Why don’t you let me drive?

What we mean: I find your ability to operate a motor vehicle not only lacking but utterly terrifying, and I would prefer not to die tonight.

What we say: That shirt would look amazing on you. You should try it on.

What we mean: Your clothes are ugly and stupid. I am embarrassed to be seen in public with you.

What we say: Tonight, I’m going to cook you dinner, go in the other room while you watch the game, and let you do filthy things to me using a can of whipped cream and a ball gag.

What we mean: I used your credit card to buy $300 worth of shoes online and I’m hoping to soften the blow with food, sports, and sexy time.

Part III.

What we say: I’m gonna go have lunch with some friends. I’ll be back in a couple hours.

What we do: Substitute lunch for margaritas. Stumble in five hours later, completely sloshed.

What we say: I’ve gotta start dieting. These pants don’t fit me like they used to.

What we do: Successfully count calories for three weeks. Become so depressed/angry that we have only lost four pounds that we consume enough Oreos and gummi bears to send an entire diabetic football team in to a coma.

What we say: I hate my job, I hate my co-workers, and I hate my boss! Time to move on!

What we do: Continue working at our shitty job until something else happens to fall in our lap because otherwise we would have absolutely nothing to bitch about.

What we say: Man, fuck him. I’m too good for him, and he knows it.

What we do: Rent Sleepless in Seattle. Get halfway through the movie, a box of chocolates, and a second bottle of wine before sending a drunk text laced with awkward winky-faces and unecessary LOLs. Cry self to sleep.

What we say: Ugh, I look hideous today.

What we do: Spend an hour doing hair and makeup. Take numerous pictures in the bathroom mirror using cell phone and upload them to Facebook with the caption, “Just woke up lol, I look so gross!”