How Marriage Changes Everything In Your Life

I have several friends who are about to get married or who have been with their significant other for a long period of time, and they talk about how excited they are to get married, to which I always say “DON’T DO IT! IT’S A TRAP!” and they laugh like I’m kidding.

I’m not kidding.

It’s a trap.

Run.

I think they have a different expectation of what the reality is, so I’m going to go over some of the basics.

Cleaning

Expectation: You’ll have help and it will get done twice as fast, or your wife will do all of the cleaning because hey! Women LOVE cleaning!

Reality: You’ll be sitting on the couch in your sweatpants, using your sweatpants as a napkin, hopping from one room to the other, looking for pants under a mountain of garbage. Note, this is not everyone, but I’ve met more people who have had this problem than who haven’t had this problem. Also, dishes won’t do themselves at mom’s house. You have mother fucking chores that you don’t get rewarded from.

Communication.

Expectation: Married couples are always friends with other married couples who talk all the time and never have issues telling each other anything! Communication is no problemo!

Reality: Lack of communication causes a lot of divorces. And to be fair, I forget to tell Alex stuff all the time. We talk all the time. He is probably the chattiest person I have ever met. And I talk a lot. But we both talk non stop for hours and don’t say a fucking thing.

Lovin’, touchin’, squeezin’

Expectation: Humping like gorillas.

Reality: You or your spouse will say “Hey, wanna have some fun?” and you’ll respond with “OR… there’s a new episode of Big Bang Theory tonight.”

So then you stay up all night watching reruns of Big Bang Theory to catch up on the new episode. This will go on for six months and then you both will replace touching with ice cream and not care. Note: This can be any show from Dragon Ball Z, to Deadly Women. When you’re married, you can have sex anytime, but reruns may not always be there.

Money

Expectation: Two incomes means we’re rich bitches!

Reality: Two people means twice the bills. Two cars? Twice the gas! Clothes for two! Eating enough to fill a buffet, the works! While I’m technically better off now that I’m married, I have to look like I’m married. Which fucking sucks. I can’t go grocery shopping in a parka and basketball shorts anymore. People won’t excuse it as “Oh she’s just a poor college kid” because they’ll see that shiny little thing on my finger and think “HER HUSBAND ABUSES HER!”

Which he totally doesn’t. I just hate clothes shopping. And washing clothes. And folding. I’m not my mother who is a wizard with laundry and clothing.

Going to the bar

Expectation: Your husband (or if you’re a guy, you) will buy all of the drinks and it will be amazingly fun!

Reality: Alex refuses to go to the bar with me unless I drag him. With a bunch of friends. To which we are both ignored because we have rings on our fingers. Except in Alaska. Alaska men didn’t care if a woman had a ring because there were no women in Alaska. Getting a free drink now is ridiculously hard. I’ve given up.

Work Functions

Expectation: Since you’re married, everyone will think you’re respectable and kind and will act like mature adults.

Reality: Nothing has changed. Except one of you will always be the DD. If you’ve read my blog from the get go, you’ll realize that my husband is always the designated driver. And I am absolutely humiliating at function. As well as nearly half of the people there, because one will drive, and the other drinks for the couple.

So tell me, anything you want to add to the list? Anything you feel should be rebutted? Every couple is different, I want to hear your thoughts! TELL ME YOUR WEIRD MARRIAGE STORIES!

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How a Murderous Cockroach Turned Me Into A Good Housekeeper

So when I first moved to Louisiana, my house lacked all forms of furniture.  At our house for the first few weeks, we had a full size mattress on the floor, a broom, a floor shark mop thing, and a dining room table we got at an AWESOME consignment store in Shreveport.  So, to say the least, we didn’t have anything.  Along with this, my husband was given two weeks after we got here to figure his stuff out, I didn’t start work until three weeks after getting here, so we spent a lot of time just sitting around our house, not having anything really to do.

This is bad when you’re getting familiar with a new area.

Not only do you learn a lot of new things about your spouse because you’ve never had this much time with him, but also, you get to see all the creepy little things in your house.

Please keep in mind, I am from Minnesota originally and spent my entire adult life in Alaska where there are no types of bugs except mosquitos and silverfish, all of which are harmless.  I had heard that the south had cockroaches, but I thought cockroaches were only about a quarter of an inch long.  Oh, how wrong I was.

One day, when I was bored out of my mind, I decided to sweep up all the dog fur that my dogs felt they needed to shed once getting to 100+ degree weather, when I sweep under my kitchen sink and I am greeted by a giant (two inch long) cockroach.

I couldn’t find a picture to justify the cockroach, so thank you Hyperbole and a half for giving me the idea of using MS Paint

When I swept it out from under the sink, it hissed at me.  Then it skittered around a little bit and stopped moving…. But I could hear that fucker breathing.

Being a naïve northern girl, I did not see it like this.

I had my ass on the kitchen door, counters on either side of me, so when I swept this cockroach from under the kitchen sink, I was cornered with nowhere to go since I didn’t have enough room to open the kitchen door to go around the house and go inside via the front door.  I was barefoot so I couldn’t squash the damn thing, and since I’m a fat girl, I can’t jump over it.

So I did the most logical thing that came to mind.

I screamed.

I kept screaming.

I seriously did not stop screaming.  Oh, and I started crying too because I HATE roaches.  My husband, the poor man, was in the middle of a very peaceful nap.  When he heard my screaming and crying, he thought I was being attacked, so he quickly rushed out onto the tile, sliding the entire way, seeing me crying and screaming in the kitchen, while he was still in his underwear.

“What’s wrong?!” he yelled, looking around for a rapist*

Being too struck with fear to even speak, I shakily pointed at the roach on the floor.

He gives me a very disconcerting look.  One eyebrow raised, the other lowered, dropping the rigidness of his posture.  “Are you fucking serious right now?”

I shook my head vigorously, unable to say another word, afraid that the hissing monster was going to eat me or worse.

I don’t think the roach was actually holding a knife, but who knows, better not chance it

He went over into the living room, grabbed my shoe, came back into the kitchen and killed it.  He then grabbed a paper towel and picked it up, to which I ran out of the kitchen crying, finding comfort in my down comforter.  Because nothing is more comforting than a comforter.

My husband takes care of the cockroach, then approaches me in the bedroom.

“Your knight in shining armor has slain the dragon… and all you do is run away crying.  Fucking seriously?  No thanks?  No ‘I love you’ and ‘You’re my hero?’”

I’m pretty sure it was a trap, so I didn’t answer.

So that, my friends, is how a cockroach has caused me to become an excellent house keeper.

Has anyone ever been cornered by a cockroach before?

 

*Note: My husband always teases me that I’m afraid some rapist is going to come into the house.  While I’m pretty sure this won’t happen, I am a little paranoid.  So when I screamed, he thought someone had broken into the house so he was all STAND BACK! I SHALL PROTECT YOU!  When it was really only a roach…