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Meh. Turns Out Mister Me Is Human.

December 9, 2010

Well here we are, at that weird point in a relationship, well past dating and far before cohabitation, where we’re starting to live as one unit.

It’s funny how it happens. One day you’re two separate people floating through life and you occasionally meet up to share a meal or a few drinks or several hours of karaoke. The guy you’re dating is still this wonderful beacon of hope; perhaps I’ve found the Holy Grail of men! Here he is!

Somewhere, probably shortly after we started sharing a Google calendar, Mister Me & I stopped glorifying each other and started actually knowing each other.

As we both relaxed into relationship and let our Shiny Dating Personas drop, we started tackling all that humdrum life stuff as a team: we plan who will shower first in the morning; we clean; we run errands; and, because food is still of paramount importance to both of us, we plan who’s cooking, what and when. That is family type shit, y’all.

Oh, wait a second here… Did I say “we clean?” Silly me, what an egregious typo. I clean.

The horror… Mister Me is a secret slob.

Being that he has a nice place and a house cleaning service, I had managed to convince myself that he was fairly adept at picking up after himself. I erroneously assumed that the tidy, gleaming floors of the man I was dating would also be the tidy, gleaming floors of my boyfriend.

I should have looked deeper.

There were signs…

After a sleep over, we’d move on to the days activities with clothes all over the floor. Mister Me would throw soggy towels on the bed. There’d be an empty water bottle lurking under the couch. The remnants of dinner-making never seemed to make it to the disposal. Dishes would sit, unrinsed, in the vague vicinity of the sink.

But, wow, I was not prepared for the reality. Now that we essentially live together 50% of the time, he’s really let down the veil. He tears threw the house in the morning, tossing shoes and shuffling papers. He showers with speedy gusto, flooding tiles and soaking towels. He cooks with reckless abandon, leaving pepper cores and crusty wooden spoons in his wake.

Try as I might to keep up with the mess, he, sparkler-like, generates debris too fast for my frantic sprucing.

So I confronted him. What’s up with this, homie? This is gross. And he apologized, because, messy or not, he’s pretty much perfect. And then he sheepishly asked me if I wouldn’t mind emptying my cat’s box more often and cleaning up the litter remnants scattered on the bathroom floor.

God. I do that? That is fucking gross.

I guess he’s not the only human one.

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12 Comments leave one →
  1. Tatiana permalink
    December 9, 2010 11:23 am

    This is great, Bea. Well done!

  2. December 9, 2010 11:27 am

    Cute story about dropping the shiny veil a bit :0

  3. December 9, 2010 11:36 am

    It’s always something with them isn’t it?

  4. December 9, 2010 2:07 pm

    At least he can afford a cleaning service to give the impression of clean! 😉

  5. December 9, 2010 5:40 pm

    It’s ok, I live with pigpen. It’s a constant battle but definitely something that you can work on! My pigpen has gotten much better because I throw out his crap when he’s at work and doesn’t know it. He also takes direction well instead of just doing it, if I don’t ask him, it doesn’t happen but if I ask him to do something he will do it. Sometimes boys are dense. Good luck with your pigpen! And if you need any training advice I suggest positive reinforcement techniques, works well on dogs and men.

  6. Caatherine permalink
    December 9, 2010 8:01 pm

    Great post! I almost wish that we didn’t have to get to this point in our relationships though. Wish we could leave the shine on and never learn about the weird habits! Guess there is a closeness you get by this kind of cohabitation tho….

  7. jessicainthenow permalink
    December 10, 2010 7:26 am

    lolllll I kinda like this stage. my boyfriend is the same level of messy and his roommate is way worse. His places is gross… but i love him, so I keep coming back. i’ve taken to yelling at him when he’s at my place and messy. he’s learning (kinda)

  8. December 10, 2010 2:36 pm

    Genius.

  9. December 10, 2010 3:55 pm

    My ex and I used to have a pact: If I made the bed every day, she’d stop leaving her clothes all over the bathroom floor. Ah, love. Magical, isn’t it?

  10. December 15, 2010 9:44 am

    Those men – some of them just can’t handle their kitty litter.

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