Nine months ago, I moved into our newly built house with my long time girlfriend. Being a new house, she is obviously wants it to remain looking cleaner than a nuclear weapons facility for as long as possible. Her plan for achieving this is to ban me from doing or touching anything related to housework. This is because apparently I break things. Don’t get me wrong, I want to help around the house and I have tried, much to her dismay.
I am not allowed to vacuum because I will smash the vacuum cleaner into things. I am not allowed to dust furniture because I just move the dust around and break things. If I even look like I am about to turn the oven on she will run at me like rabid dog before I get within a metre of the thing.
I guess she has good reason for this. One time, whilst she was out drinking pink drinks and talking about sanitary devices with her friends, I thought that I would take it upon myself to prove her wrong over her lack of faith in letting me help around the house. After smashing a vase in the process, I realised that all I had actually done was prove her right. I quite often drop plates whilst drying them as well, and this puts me on the receiving end of her famous ‘that’s why you’re not allowed to do things‘ speech.
This puts me on the receiving end of her famous ‘that’s why you’re not allowed to do things‘ speech.
My girlfriend is right about everything
When we first started dating, I borrowed her car. After a day of getting in touch with my feminine side by driving around in a sky blue hatchback, I thought that I would give the car a clean. I got the outside sparkling before turning my attention to the interior. In my eagerness to get everything looking amazing as a thank-you for letting me borrow the car, I thought that it would be a good idea to polish the windows… with furniture polish. For the next year, at night time she got some wonderful reflections bouncing off of the windscreen which made it quite difficult to see out. She had told me before never to use polish on the windows.
I am also generally wrong about the way to do things too. Sometimes, very occasionally, when we are in a disagreement about how to do something she will let me do things my way. Normally, my way turns out to be more wrong than Tiger Woods when he thought his wife wouldn’t find out if he slept with a load of random girls. I know this and she knows this, but because I am a stubborn male who refuses to admit when I am wrong, I continue to try.
I am telling you this because as I am sat here writing this post, I have a terrible case of self-inflicted backne. Yep, I have steroid acne all over my back, it looks like a pepperoni pizza and it is completely my own fault.
A couple of weeks ago I went to the doctor and was prescribed some steroids for an infection. The doctor advised me to take 2 tablets a day for 5 days, then 1 tablet a day for another week and then stop. So, because I am male and therefore I know everything about everything, I thought I would take 2 tablets a day for 8 days and then 1 a day for 2 weeks after that. I am not a medically trained professional, but obviously, if I wanted the infection to clear up properly then I should take the medication for longer. My girlfriend told me to follow the doctor’s instructions, but because I know better I ignored her.
If the giant beacons on my back are anything to go by, I am thinking, that all they have to do to test for drugs in sport is keep an eye out for backne. If they did that, baseball players wouldn’t get away with it and I am sure Lance Armstrong couldn’t have cheated the drug tests. Actually, cyclists wear lycra so tight, not only can you tell whether the cyclists are circumcised, but you probably wouldn’t even have to lift up their tops to check for the zits, they would show straight through the shirt.
I concede defeat
Anyway, this backne experience has lead me to a conclusion. I am about to say something that as a male it hurts me to admit. Like a puppy who has just crapped on the carpet, I am going to put my tail between my legs and concede defeat. My girlfriend knows best about everything.
Despite my best attempts to help around the house, just as she has requested, I am going to stop trying. She wants to do it all by herself so I am going to let her. I am now destined to spend the rest of our time together sitting on my ass on the sofa. I am also going to stop pretending that I know anything. Instead, I will listen to everything my girlfriend says and not even attempt to suggest anything different.
In a couple of years when she calls me a fat, uninterested slob who never does anything to help her around the house, I will remind her that I tried to help her for months, but this is what she wanted and she brought it on herself.