(no subject)
Boyfriend Rant:
i love waking up to you. you barely have any con's besides what I am going to rant about right now. i adore having you say "goodnight, i love you" every night. not even married couples get that. not even couples that claim how in love they are just like us. and it's flattering when my girlfriends look at our relationship as something they will be looking forward to.
but i am so tired of "me time" being "clean time". i have not put a pencil to a notebook for months. i have not been able to explore the many breads i can bake, cookies that take time and perfection for your mouth to enjoy. nothing. because as soon as i come home from work that can be such a lousy day, and you know how grateful i get when i just have those good days, and not coming home with someone trying to touch my ass, call me "fine bitch", or try to know my interests in a creepy way. i fucking love those days when i don't have any of that.
my dreams have turned in to being able to go some where with out first cleaning the house. or coming home, dropping my bags, and watching a television show on Netflix just so I can wind down and laugh.
but instead, i am pouring dish soap (which we are out of and you said you'd be able to get some today) and scrubbing my hands in food water. and then later that night you let me know how dry my hands are after 6 applications of lotion.
i've gutted the fridge and scrubbed. put the good food back in. but i am still throwing an empty peanut butter jar that has been sitting on the cutting board for god knows how long today. i'm cleaning off the island of bread crumbs that you left today.
I sit in Kuma's Corner last night for two hours waiting for a table so we can eat and horrible metal music after a whole day of not being able to eat cause work was THAT bad just so i can eat my vegetarian motorhead and you can eat the whole one pounder of a cow, medium rare burger that we waited two hours for and wasn't even worth the two hours.
you had eight hours to clean this whole house. you took a bath. you pick up my towels because i'm running late since you hit the off button on the alarm instead of snooze and you say "pick up your towels."
babe, i am asking you:
please wash the dishes
sweep the floor
wipe up the bread crumbs
clean off the oven
pick up the paper and items left on the arm of the couch so i don't keep knocking off your bowl and stop and hope i did NOT just break that
and pick up your ground coffee beans that you make every morning and end up being soaked in water because you washed something and got water all over the counter.
cause i do this every day.
and i do it in an hour and you come home an hour and a half after i do so on Tuesday nights.
i am tired of you thinking just because you make breakfast for me every morning i have to spend an hour cleaning.
oatmeal takes 5 minutes tops.
i really don't care if you're mad about the text i sent you. i just cried for ten minutes before i wrote this post and during.
that's how frustrated i am.
because this isn't the first time i asked you.
and having this girl brain placed ever so neatly in my skull, shows me that you are not in this together. I'm thinking "we" and you're thinking "ah, me time". that must be wonderful.
I love you and thank you for listening.
i love waking up to you. you barely have any con's besides what I am going to rant about right now. i adore having you say "goodnight, i love you" every night. not even married couples get that. not even couples that claim how in love they are just like us. and it's flattering when my girlfriends look at our relationship as something they will be looking forward to.
but i am so tired of "me time" being "clean time". i have not put a pencil to a notebook for months. i have not been able to explore the many breads i can bake, cookies that take time and perfection for your mouth to enjoy. nothing. because as soon as i come home from work that can be such a lousy day, and you know how grateful i get when i just have those good days, and not coming home with someone trying to touch my ass, call me "fine bitch", or try to know my interests in a creepy way. i fucking love those days when i don't have any of that.
my dreams have turned in to being able to go some where with out first cleaning the house. or coming home, dropping my bags, and watching a television show on Netflix just so I can wind down and laugh.
but instead, i am pouring dish soap (which we are out of and you said you'd be able to get some today) and scrubbing my hands in food water. and then later that night you let me know how dry my hands are after 6 applications of lotion.
i've gutted the fridge and scrubbed. put the good food back in. but i am still throwing an empty peanut butter jar that has been sitting on the cutting board for god knows how long today. i'm cleaning off the island of bread crumbs that you left today.
I sit in Kuma's Corner last night for two hours waiting for a table so we can eat and horrible metal music after a whole day of not being able to eat cause work was THAT bad just so i can eat my vegetarian motorhead and you can eat the whole one pounder of a cow, medium rare burger that we waited two hours for and wasn't even worth the two hours.
you had eight hours to clean this whole house. you took a bath. you pick up my towels because i'm running late since you hit the off button on the alarm instead of snooze and you say "pick up your towels."
babe, i am asking you:
please wash the dishes
sweep the floor
wipe up the bread crumbs
clean off the oven
pick up the paper and items left on the arm of the couch so i don't keep knocking off your bowl and stop and hope i did NOT just break that
and pick up your ground coffee beans that you make every morning and end up being soaked in water because you washed something and got water all over the counter.
cause i do this every day.
and i do it in an hour and you come home an hour and a half after i do so on Tuesday nights.
i am tired of you thinking just because you make breakfast for me every morning i have to spend an hour cleaning.
oatmeal takes 5 minutes tops.
i really don't care if you're mad about the text i sent you. i just cried for ten minutes before i wrote this post and during.
that's how frustrated i am.
because this isn't the first time i asked you.
and having this girl brain placed ever so neatly in my skull, shows me that you are not in this together. I'm thinking "we" and you're thinking "ah, me time". that must be wonderful.
I love you and thank you for listening.