#NaBloPoMo Day 2: None of My Exes Live in Texas

I’m blogging every single day in November, and I’m totally happy to share my list of amateur daily themes if you’re interested in joining me.  In yesterday’s inaugural NaBloPoMo post, I dished about how much I lurv my Hubby.  Out of the fire and back into the frying pan: today’s theme is Ex-Boyfriends.

Do you remember all of your break ups? I cannot for the life of me remember how or why I broke up with my first boyfriend.  At least I think I’m the one who did the breaking up …

Now, I’m calling him my first boyfriend, but technically, he was my second.  I guess I just don’t really count the guy who asked me to be his girlfriend in 9th Grade, since I had my friend break up with him for me the very next day.  (If you talk during the movie we’re watching, you’re gonna get the axe. Sorry.)

And maybe you’re thinking, if I don’t remember my first breakup, it must be because I’ve had so many I can’t keep them straight.  Hah, fooled you!  I am the proud owner of two whole ex-boyfriends (three if you count Mr. Movie Talker).

I do, however, remember the How and Why of my break up with my second boyfriend.  Let’s call him Preston.  As for the How, well, technically, Preston broke up with me.  But I like to think that I expertly drove him crazy on purpose, in the hopes that he would end things so I wouldn’t have to.  Because conflict is gross, and I consider myself a nice person. (Nice enough to drive someone crazy for sixth months in order to avoid an hour of discomfort).

I remember we were on the phone — we were long distance at the time — and somehow we had finally mustered the courage to discuss whether we should call it quits.  I told him I would let him decide, and as he sat there ruminating for a few minutes, I remember praying to myself: “Please, pleaaase, please just break up with me already.”  And he did.  Thank gawd.

As for the Why, well, the main thing was that Preston was a major douche.  (I mean, we did meet at a prep school in New England, so the douchery odds were never in his favor.)  He was super privileged and oblivious to hardship, and he said something once that offended me to my core.  During one of our many phone chats, he told me that he didn’t think he could ever be friends with someone who didn’t go to college.  Ew.  Ew! My skin still crawls when I think about it — so stuck up, so uninformed.  Honestly, when Preston said that, I knew we were done.  It sounds so trivial, but it just perfectly punctuated our entirely distinct world views.

Other than the fact that we were fundamentally completely different people, it was a young relationship and success just wasn’t in the cards.  We started dating when I was a senior in high school, and he was a year behind me.  We decided to stay together long-distance when I headed off to college, because we were stupid and that’s what stupid people do.  But Preston was really judgmental and mean every time I wanted to go out and have fun with my college friends.  And after a while, it got so bad that I just decided to stay home by myself in my dorm.  Major womp womp.  And then when Preston graduated and went off to a different college, he was completely respectful and never went out with friends or got blackout drunk or fell off the map for days.  Haha just kidding, he totally did all those things!  Hypocrite.

So yeah, things went sour and we broke up during his first year of college.  We stayed friends for a while, and chatted on the phone from time to time.  Then one day he changed his Facebook profile to a picture of him nuzzling the navel of a large-chested, bikini-clad co-ed, and we never spoke again. Oh well.

Until next time,






#NaBloPoMo Day 1: Marriage is Hard

As I mentioned in my previous post, I’m taking on NaBloPoMo this November, and because I’m a little special at using the internet, I’ve gone ahead and crafted my own list of 30 themes.  Marriage is kind of a big deal, so I figured why not kick things off on Day 1 with a post dedicated to Married Life?

First things first, am I the only person who hears the word “marriage” and immediately converts it to “mawwiage”? Raise your hand if you grew up watching the Princess Bride. (Side story, Hubby and I were in a fit of giggles during our vows on our wedding day, because we kept whispering “mawwiage” to each other. #RealMature).


Anyway, marriage is hard, y’all.  Every marriage requires major compromise and consists of significant unrest (let’s be honest).  And also, marriage is petty.  So in the spirit of being majorly petty, I’m going to take a few minutes to dish on my husband.  Because, god love him, he can be a bit of a butt-head.


So why, you ask, is Hubby a butt-head? Well…

  • He DEMANDS that the toilet paper be installed with the flap on top.  When we first started dating, I unknowingly replaced the toilet paper with the flap hiding in the back, and boy oh boy did I get an earful. But I mean, I had lived the first 21 years of my life with no rhyme or reason to how each new roll of toilet paper was installed, and I turned out ok, so …
  • While we’re on the subject of toilets, Hubby spends HOURS on the porcelain throne.  And he usually decides to go to the bathroom at the worst time.  Like, when I’m drowning in kids. He’s all, “oops, nature calls, gotta go sit on the toilet and scroll  Imgur for 30 minutes.” And let’s be honest, I’m not above texting him while he’s relieving himself and asking him to hurry the EFF up.  I mean, I’m drowning in kids, after all.
  • Moving out of the bathroom and into the kitchen: when Hubby is done using a knife, he likes to leave it on the counter with the handle hanging over the edge.  Jesus H, it’s not like we have two little munchkins running around pulling shit off the counters at every opportunity or anything . . .  Fack!
  • Hubby does not know how to load the dishwasher.  He’s like, SO bad at it that I’ve considered writing him a manual.  Of course, I should be so lucky when he actually takes it upon himself to load the dishwasher.  More often than not, he puts his used dishware on the counter … the completely clean counter … the one that I’ve just cleared of dirty dishes that are now in the dishwasher.  I brought this up last night and Hubby said, “How am I supposed to know that the dishes in the dishwasher are dirty?”  Gee, mystery of mysteries.
  • He is a horrible grocery shopper.  It takes him like an hour and a half to get a cart-full of things that would take me 20 minutes to collect.  I don’t understand it, and I have to do a lot of “serenity now”-ing while I sit at home (drowning in kids) waiting for him to finish.
  • Hubby likes to slip into accidental naps on the couch while I’m in the other room, drowning in kids.
  • He does not wake up to the baby crying in the middle of the night.  So, you know, I’m not allowed to get mad at him that he doesn’t volunteer to go in to soothe the baby, because it’s not his fault that he doesn’t wake up.

So yeah, that’s Hubby in all his Imgur-scrolling, couch-napping glory.  As for me, well, I think I have a pretty good idea what this list would look like if Hubby was writing about me.  I won’t lie to you guys, I’m not perfect: I like to leave the Pringles foil seal partially attached to the can after I open it; I never EVER notice the perforated lines when I’m opening a box of food; and uh, yeah, I guess I’m a bit of a nag.

Every marriage has its quirks, and honestly, I think we need these minor frustrations to keep things running.  If we didn’t blow off steam nagging each other about the dishes and the Pringles foil seal, who knows what kind of epic explosion could be in store down the road.  And to be completely honest, the things that make Hubby a butt-head, well, I think most of them are kind of cute.  I’d miss them if, heaven forbid, we were no longer together.

The dude drives me nuts, but he sure makes me smile.

Until next time,