My girlfriend and I.

[Novice]

Nothing keeps a relationship on its toes so much as lively debate. Fortunate, then, that my girlfriend ( Louise ) and I agree on absolutely nothing. At all.

Here for your enjoyment ( I hope ) are a few things we have argued about in the 10 years we have been together.


Where to sit in the cinema. On those occasions when we (a) manage to agree to go to the cinema together and, (b) go to see the same film once we're there. (No, really).

The best way to hang up washing.

I eat two-fingered Kit-Kats like I'd eat any other chocolate bars of that size, i.e., without feeling the need to snap them into two individual fingers first. Lou accused me of doing this, 'deliberately to annoy her'.  
                                                           

She wanted to paint the living room yellow. I, after what seemed a life time but only infact lasted a fortnight won that one. Phew.

                                                             

The TV Remote.

It is only by epic self-discipline on both our parts that we don't argue about the TV Remote to the exclusion of all else. It does the TV Remote a disservice to suggest that it is only the cause of four types of argument, but space, you will understand, is limited so I must concentrate on the main ones.

1) Ownership of the TV Remote: this is signified by its being on the arm of the chair/sofa closest to you - it is more important than life itself.

2) On those blood-freezing occasions when you look up from your seat to discover that the TV Remote is still lying on top of the TV, then one of you must retrieve it; who shall it be? And how will this affect (1)?

3) Disappearance of the TV Remote. Precisely who had it last will be hotly disputed, witnesses may be called. Things can turn very nasty indeed when the person who isn't looking for it is revealed to be unknowingly sitting on it.

4) The TV Remote is a natural nomad and sometimes, may the Lord protect us, it goes missing for whole days. During these dark times, someone must actually, in an entirely literal sense, get up to change the channel; International Law decrees that this, "will not be the person who did it last" - but can this be ascertained? Without the police becoming involved?

Lou thinks I'm vain because... I use a mirror when I shave. During this argument in the bathroom - our fourth most popular location for arguments, it will delight and charm you to learn - Lou proved that shaving with a mirror could only be seen as outrageous narcissism by saying, 'None of the other men I've been with,' (my, but it's all I can do to stop myself hugging her when she begins sentences like that) 'None of the other men I've been with used a mirror to shave.'

'Ha! Difficult to check up on that, isn't it? As all the other men you've been with can now only communicate by blinking their eyes!' I said. Much later. When Lou had left the house.


She really over-reacts whenever she catches me wearing her underwear.

                                                         

The Terror Of Lids:

Yes, the rewards are high, but it's a game where the price of defeat is savage. Sometimes Lou, after grunting with it herself for a collection of 'hnggh's, will hand me a bottle or a jar that has a screw top along with an impatient, 'Open that for me.' If the gods lie content in the skies above England at that moment, then what follows is a rapid flick of my wrist, a delightful 'click-fshhhh' gasp of surrender, and my handing the thing back to her FEELING LIKE A HERO OF NORSE LEGEND. Generally, though, what happens is that I strain for a while and strip the skin off the palm of my hands. Then I wrap the lid in a tea towel and strain some more to equal effect. At this point I'm on to using the jamb of the door as a vice to hold the lid while I twist at the container; Lou will be saying, 'Give it back here, you'll wreck the door,' and I'll be swearing and twisting and saying, 'I'll repaint that bit in a minute.' The fear is upon me. If it's a fizzy thing, you can sometimes puncture the lid to relieve the pressure and then get it open, but you're not often that lucky. 'Give it back,' Lou repeats, reaching around me, trying to take the item from my hands. I swivel away - 'Just a minute' - and desperately twist at the lid again, now not even attempting not to squint up my face as I do so. At last, though, Lou will manage to get the thing back. This is the darkest moment. If she tries again and it remains fastened, then I am saved. 'It's just completely stuck,' I'll say, 'It is. Stop trying now. Stop. Stop it.' However, there are times - and my stomach chills now, even as I write this - when she gets it back and, with one last satanic effort, manages to spin the lid free. A slight smile takes up home on her face.
Me. 'What?'
Lou.'Nothing.'
Me. 'No - what?'
Lou. 'Nothing.'
Me. 'I'd loosened it.'
Lou. 'I didn't say anything.

And I'll have to drag the tiny, damp shreds of my manhood away into the reclusive garage until the slight, slight smile disappears from her some thirty-six hours into the future.

I have other tales about our relationship if you want to read them.  But that will be for another day.

[RED-DOG]

Brilliant! (Admit it, you love her to bits)

[technolog]

I have other tales about our relationship if you want to read them.

Yes!


And I'm so glad I'm divorced!

[Hairydude]

Haha brilliant.... sounds like the best type of relationship there is!

[the sicilian]

Nothing keeps a relationship on its toes so much as lively debate. Fortunate, then, that my girlfriend ( Louise ) and I agree on absolutely nothing. At all.

Here for your enjoyment ( I hope ) are a few things we have argued about in the 10 years we have been together.


Where to sit in the cinema. On those occasions when we (a) manage to agree to go to the cinema together and, (b) go to see the same film once we're there. (No, really).

JUST LET HER DECIDE

The best way to hang up washing.

YOUR A MAN YOU SHOULD HAVE HAVE NO KNOWLEDGE OF THIS SUBJECT..LET HER GET ON WITH IT

I eat two-fingered Kit-Kats like I'd eat any other chocolate bars of that size, i.e., without feeling the need to snap them into two individual fingers first. Lou accused me of doing this, 'deliberately to annoy her'.  

TELL HER TO GET HER OWN FLIPPING KIT KAT.... AND NICE ONE ON THE ANNOYING...SMALL VICTORIES ARE THE BEST..
                                                            

She wanted to paint the living room yellow. I, after what seemed a life time but only infact lasted a fortnight won that one. Phew.

WELL DONE..MY EX PAINTED ONE OF THE BEDROOMS GREEN AND ORANGE...TOOK US 18 MONTHS TO SELL THE FUCKING HOUSE

                                                              

The TV Remote.

It is only by epic self-discipline on both our parts that we don't argue about the TV Remote to the exclusion of all else. It does the TV Remote a disservice to suggest that it is only the cause of four types of argument, but space, you will understand, is limited so I must concentrate on the main ones.

1) Ownership of the TV Remote: this is signified by its being on the arm of the chair/sofa closest to you - it is more important than life itself.

2) On those blood-freezing occasions when you look up from your seat to discover that the TV Remote is still lying on top of the TV, then one of you must retrieve it; who shall it be? And how will this affect (1)?

3) Disappearance of the TV Remote. Precisely who had it last will be hotly disputed, witnesses may be called. Things can turn very nasty indeed when the person who isn't looking for it is revealed to be unknowingly sitting on it.

4) The TV Remote is a natural nomad and sometimes, may the Lord protect us, it goes missing for whole days. During these dark times, someone must actually, in an entirely literal sense, get up to change the channel; International Law decrees that this, "will not be the person who did it last" - but can this be ascertained? Without the police becoming involved?


TELL HER TO GTFO... EVERYONE KNOWS NO WOMAN CAN HANDLE THAT KIND OF POWER

Lou thinks I'm vain because... I use a mirror when I shave. During this argument in the bathroom - our fourth most popular location for arguments, it will delight and charm you to learn - Lou proved that shaving with a mirror could only be seen as outrageous narcissism by saying, 'None of the other men I've been with,' (my, but it's all I can do to stop myself hugging her when she begins sentences like that) 'None of the other men I've been with used a mirror to shave.'

DID SHE STOP GOING OUT WITH THEM BECAUSE THEY HAD MUTILATED THEMSELVES... REPLY WITH SENTANCES THAT BEGIN WITH ' NONE OF THE WOMEN IVE BEEN WITH REQUIRED AS MUCH MAKE UP AS YOU '

'Ha! Difficult to check up on that, isn't it? As all the other men you've been with can now only communicate by blinking their eyes!' I said. Much later. When Lou had left the house.


She really over-reacts whenever she catches me wearing her underwear.

 TELL HER SHES JEALOUS COS U LOOK BETTER IN IT                                                        

The Terror Of Lids:

Yes, the rewards are high, but it's a game where the price of defeat is savage. Sometimes Lou, after grunting with it herself for a collection of 'hnggh's, will hand me a bottle or a jar that has a screw top along with an impatient, 'Open that for me.' If the gods lie content in the skies above England at that moment, then what follows is a rapid flick of my wrist, a delightful 'click-fshhhh' gasp of surrender, and my handing the thing back to her FEELING LIKE A HERO OF NORSE LEGEND. Generally, though, what happens is that I strain for a while and strip the skin off the palm of my hands. Then I wrap the lid in a tea towel and strain some more to equal effect. At this point I'm on to using the jamb of the door as a vice to hold the lid while I twist at the container; Lou will be saying, 'Give it back here, you'll wreck the door,' and I'll be swearing and twisting and saying, 'I'll repaint that bit in a minute.' The fear is upon me. If it's a fizzy thing, you can sometimes puncture the lid to relieve the pressure and then get it open, but you're not often that lucky. 'Give it back,' Lou repeats, reaching around me, trying to take the item from my hands. I swivel away - 'Just a minute' - and desperately twist at the lid again, now not even attempting not to squint up my face as I do so. At last, though, Lou will manage to get the thing back. This is the darkest moment. If she tries again and it remains fastened, then I am saved. 'It's just completely stuck,' I'll say, 'It is. Stop trying now. Stop. Stop it.' However, there are times - and my stomach chills now, even as I write this - when she gets it back and, with one last satanic effort, manages to spin the lid free. A slight smile takes up home on her face.
Me. 'What?'
Lou.'Nothing.'
Me. 'No - what?'
Lou. 'Nothing.'
Me. 'I'd loosened it.'
Lou. 'I didn't say anything.

And I'll have to drag the tiny, damp shreds of my manhood away into the reclusive garage until the slight, slight smile disappears from her some thirty-six hours into the future.

GET ONE OF THOSE DEVICES OLD PEOPLE LIKE TIKAY USE THAT TAKE THE LID OFF FOR YOU

I have other tales about our relationship if you want to read them.  But that will be for another day.

YES I AM DIVORCED AND HAVE NO IDEA HOW THAT HAPPENED

[pokefast]

Brilliant, more please

[DMorgan]

5 stars

more please

[Nakor]

Brilliant, more please

[Novice]

Brilliant! (Admit it, you love her to bits)

That reminds me of this conversation we had in February.

It's Friday the 12th of February. It's early evening. Lou and I are sitting in the living room. Lou has asked me to do something the following day.
Me: 'I can't, I'm afraid. I'm going into town.'
Lou: 'Why? What do you need to go to town for?'
Me: 'Oh, I have to get some stuff.'
Lou: 'What stuff?'
Me: 'Just some stuff... things.'
Lou: 'What things?'
Me: 'Various things.'
Lou: 'What things?'
Me: 'What does it matter?'
Lou: 'What things?'
Me: 'It's not important what specific things, is it? I have to get things or I wouldn't be cycling into town, would I? All that's relevant here is that I have to go, not the details of the individual items I need to get - there's no point wasting time giving you a big list, when the only significant point is that I need to go to town.'
Lou: 'What things?'
Me: 'Oh, for Christ's sake... Pizzas. I need to buy some pizzas, OK?'
Lou: 'We've got pizzas.'
Me: 'We've got a pizza.'
Lou: 'So? How many do you need?'
Me: 'Several. I want to have several in the fridge.'
Lou: 'Why?'
Me: 'So that we have a stock of them.'
Lou: 'Why?'
Me: 'So that we don't run out, obviously.'
Lou: 'What would happen if we ran out?'
Me: 'I'd have to go to town.'
This flings itself out of my mouth while my higher brain is still racing along behind it frantically waving its arms and shouting, 'Wait! Wait!'
Lou responds with just the tiniest movement of her eyebrows. Absolutely minuscule. Sufficient in size, however, to make me wonder if I could get a UN resolution to have her bombed.
Me: 'I have to get other things too.'
Lou: 'What things?'
Me: 'What the bloody hell does it matter? Why can't I go to town if I want to, for God's sake?'
Lou: 'Why are you being secretive? What are you up to?'
Me: 'I'm not up to anything.'
Lou: 'Yes you are.'
Me: 'Like what?'
Lou: 'I don't know.'
Me: 'Because there isn't anything.'
Lou: 'Yes there is - I can tell.'
Me: 'There isn't.'
Lou: 'You bloody liar.'
Me: 'You bloody mad woman.'
Lou: 'Tell me.'
Me: 'Stop talking now.'
Lou: 'Tell me.'
Me: 'I...'
Lou: 'Tell me.'
I think we've both risen to our feet by this point (it allows for better voice projection).
Me: 'OK! OK! You want to know why I need to go up town, you relentless harridan?!'
Lou: ''Yes! You lying swine!'
Me: 'So I can get your Valentine's Day card! So I can get your bloody Valentine's Day card and give it to you as a nice surprise.
A tiny flicker. It's the merest stutter of hesitation, though, then she's back on track before the beat is really lost.
Lou: 'You don't need to get me a bloody Valentine's Day card!'
(I can't imagine what makes her think she's going to get away with this move - she must be getting old.)
Me: 'Too bad! Because I'm getting you a Valentine's Day card!
Lou: 'THERE'S NO BLOODY NEED!'
Me: 'WELL IT'S GOING TO BLOODY HAPPEN - GET USED TO IT!'
And, indeed, I do go to town, buy her a card. Inside I write, 'Surprise!' I gave it to her on Valentine's Day and she says, 'Thank you,' to me, through gritted teeth. (She gets me one too, by the way - it reads, "I'm not interested in a nice, normal relationship... I like ours better.")

[RED-DOG]

 

<Passes baton, steps quietly aside>   

[Ironside]

Blatant I have a girlfriend brag

[EvilPie]

I had a similar conversation with my ex about her valentine's card one year.

When I finally cracked and admitted what I was up to she went mad at me for spoiling the surprise.

Ever get the feeling you can't win?

Brought back some memories that one

Keep up the good work.

[Cf]

Very good.

[Girgy85]

Top bombing!

[outragous76]

lol @ girgy and cf in this thread