Ok, so I am super clean and my guy — you guessed it, super messy. Since we’ve been living together, I have tried every which way to get him to clean up his S*%T but he has yet to listen to me. He says I am “nagging”. You tell me who is right in the fight below:
Dirty Workout Clothes
My guy, let’s call him Bradley, is a mountain biker. Mountain bikers have a lot of gear: backpacks, water spouts, bike shoes, dirty pants, dirty everything. Ok? Though I did get him to store his mountain bike in the garage (he saw no problem having it standing in the living room, and I am not kidding) all of his mountain bike accessories will be sprawled on the dining room table, until you know who (ME!) finally moves them. This includes wet, dirty t-shirts hung up over the dining room chairs, bike shoes on the white carpet, his water hose thing on the wood table. Uh….I don’t think so.
Clean It UP!
Now, I could just say: “Seriously, Bradley, clean it up, NOW.” But I do not say that. I am trying to be nicer about it. I understand that he has always had someone pick up after him, that he will pick it up on his own time, and that this is “his house too.” So I give him the benefit of the doubt for a few hours after he comes home from a ride. I swallow my words and I wait…
Please. Clean it Up. Thank You Honey!
So the other day he got home from a ride, and I was going to take the baby for a walk and I said lovingly ( I mean, RIDICULOUSLY lovingly, like I almost made myself sick at how nice I was): “Hun, I’m going to take the baby for a ‘lil walk, it would be sooooo wonderful if you could please clean up your bike accessories before I get back. I mean, it would mean the world to me.” “Ok, I will do it after I shower,” he said.
Wow! I should learn to talk like this more often!
Two hours later, I walk in with my baby and peek my head around the corner to the dining room, still piled up with biking crap. Steaming, I go and find Bradley and say, now in a not-so-nice tone, “Yo, I thought you were going to clean your “S&^T up?!” He says “What are you talking about, I never said that.” I must be crazy.
I’m the Cleaning Lady
Guess what I do. I hand over the baby, I march into the dining room, I pick up his biking gear and I put it away where it belongs — in a pile in his closet. I mean honestly, I’m so tired of the mess. I try to keep my house liveable and tidy. We aren’t in college anymore, are we? This is how it alwayyyys goes — he leaves a mess, I clean it up, and then he gets mad at me for cleaning it up.
Are All Guys Messy?
Is it just me, or are all guys messy? I mean, when I first met Bradley I couldn’t even walk through his room, his floor was absolutely covered with t-shirts, bike gear, surfboards, and whatever else (I don’t want to know). He has definitely changed since we moved in together, but dude…noone wants to sit at the dining room table smelling your dirty workout clothes. ok?