I really do. I love my Fiance. He is easily the best thing that has ever happened to me.
(Yes, this is me venting about my SO. If you are uncomfortable with that, I refer you to the Back arrow on your browser.)
But if he doesn't start picking up after himself or helping out around the house, so help me God....
I'm a neat freak. And I know I'm freakish about it. I have eased up and relaxed a bit, but it still drives me crazy! The bathroom has constant puddles of water on the counters and sometimes the floor from him splashing about. Hand towels have to be replaced once (or twice) a day because they wind up soaking wet from me wiping up after him. I've given up on the bathroom mirror ever again being any semblance of clean.
The bedroom? My once quiet and neat sanctuary? Laundry central. Dirty, clean, all mixed together. Plus, he'll put clothes in the dryer, run the dryer, and then...leave them there. Dammit, I need to do *my* laundry, and I don't feel like lugging yours back to the bedroom!!! The bed? The sheets stay nice and tucked in for all of one or two nights. And, no, they aren't getting fussed up the fun way, either. I have practically no room in the closet because he wanted to hang up *all* of his clothes, not just the stuff that was in season and fit. All of my stuff is crammed and I hate that.
The living room is a complete disaster. Part of that is that we recently got a new TV, but there are bags that he *still* hasn't unpacked!! (He moved in early November.) I've asked nicely, I've cajoled, I've threatened, I've begged. He's got a big ass suitcase in there full of books. He keeps telling me that he'll go through it and pick out what he wants to keep and what he wants to sell. Has yet to even think about it. We've got a small place, but it can work just fine for us if he'd put just a little effort into it.
And that's the thing. He wants us to move. Because he wants...a puppy. That's right, Mr. "I promise I'll do it later" wants a G-D dog. Plus, he thinks we need the bigger space (my current apartment is pet-free). Personally, I don't think we need a higher rent. I hit the jackpot with this apartment. It's a quiet four-plex on the edge of the student ghetto. It's very quiet (95% of the time), my landlord is amazing, and it's just very, very nice. I don't want to go through the hassle of moving. We can't afford a higher rent, much less pet deposits and pet rent and dog food and vet bills. He doesn't understand that, though. He does have issues with anxiety and depression (he's seeing a psych), and he honestly thinks that a dog would help. Maybe, but, We. Can't. Afford. It. I'm not going to be one of those people who has to decide between food for me and food for the dog.
Besides, I have a very large, extensive, expensive collection of books that I need for research. If we moved and got the dog, I would have to have a large "dog-free" space to work in. Then there's the fact that he works 9 hour days. Most of my work is done at home. So guess who's going to wind up walking the dog when it's 0F or 101F? Who's going to have to take it to the vet? Me. I know that I'll end up doing the brunt of the work, so that he can come home to a cute little puppy.
Please, don't get me wrong. I do love my Fiance. I even love dogs, but I know that I can't be the primary careperson for one right now. But I'm just so frustrated right now. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't respect me. He'll call me on the way to work and just bitch, bitch, bitch about his job, how stupid they all are, how much he hates his commute, and how much better his job back in Little Rock was. And that *hurts*. It makes me feel so guilty for pulling him up here away from his job and his family because I still have a few years of school left. I've told him that. But I know that as soon as he gets off work, he'll call me to vent for the entire 45 minute drive, as if I don't have anything else to do but listen to him talk. (FTR, his boss does have his head up his ass in a rather spectacular way, but who doesn't have to deal with BS at work?)
*sigh* I just needed to get that off my chest.
(Yes, this is me venting about my SO. If you are uncomfortable with that, I refer you to the Back arrow on your browser.)
But if he doesn't start picking up after himself or helping out around the house, so help me God....
I'm a neat freak. And I know I'm freakish about it. I have eased up and relaxed a bit, but it still drives me crazy! The bathroom has constant puddles of water on the counters and sometimes the floor from him splashing about. Hand towels have to be replaced once (or twice) a day because they wind up soaking wet from me wiping up after him. I've given up on the bathroom mirror ever again being any semblance of clean.
The bedroom? My once quiet and neat sanctuary? Laundry central. Dirty, clean, all mixed together. Plus, he'll put clothes in the dryer, run the dryer, and then...leave them there. Dammit, I need to do *my* laundry, and I don't feel like lugging yours back to the bedroom!!! The bed? The sheets stay nice and tucked in for all of one or two nights. And, no, they aren't getting fussed up the fun way, either. I have practically no room in the closet because he wanted to hang up *all* of his clothes, not just the stuff that was in season and fit. All of my stuff is crammed and I hate that.
The living room is a complete disaster. Part of that is that we recently got a new TV, but there are bags that he *still* hasn't unpacked!! (He moved in early November.) I've asked nicely, I've cajoled, I've threatened, I've begged. He's got a big ass suitcase in there full of books. He keeps telling me that he'll go through it and pick out what he wants to keep and what he wants to sell. Has yet to even think about it. We've got a small place, but it can work just fine for us if he'd put just a little effort into it.
And that's the thing. He wants us to move. Because he wants...a puppy. That's right, Mr. "I promise I'll do it later" wants a G-D dog. Plus, he thinks we need the bigger space (my current apartment is pet-free). Personally, I don't think we need a higher rent. I hit the jackpot with this apartment. It's a quiet four-plex on the edge of the student ghetto. It's very quiet (95% of the time), my landlord is amazing, and it's just very, very nice. I don't want to go through the hassle of moving. We can't afford a higher rent, much less pet deposits and pet rent and dog food and vet bills. He doesn't understand that, though. He does have issues with anxiety and depression (he's seeing a psych), and he honestly thinks that a dog would help. Maybe, but, We. Can't. Afford. It. I'm not going to be one of those people who has to decide between food for me and food for the dog.
Besides, I have a very large, extensive, expensive collection of books that I need for research. If we moved and got the dog, I would have to have a large "dog-free" space to work in. Then there's the fact that he works 9 hour days. Most of my work is done at home. So guess who's going to wind up walking the dog when it's 0F or 101F? Who's going to have to take it to the vet? Me. I know that I'll end up doing the brunt of the work, so that he can come home to a cute little puppy.
Please, don't get me wrong. I do love my Fiance. I even love dogs, but I know that I can't be the primary careperson for one right now. But I'm just so frustrated right now. Sometimes I feel like he doesn't respect me. He'll call me on the way to work and just bitch, bitch, bitch about his job, how stupid they all are, how much he hates his commute, and how much better his job back in Little Rock was. And that *hurts*. It makes me feel so guilty for pulling him up here away from his job and his family because I still have a few years of school left. I've told him that. But I know that as soon as he gets off work, he'll call me to vent for the entire 45 minute drive, as if I don't have anything else to do but listen to him talk. (FTR, his boss does have his head up his ass in a rather spectacular way, but who doesn't have to deal with BS at work?)
*sigh* I just needed to get that off my chest.
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