We’ve been living together now for six months and already I’ve turned into his mother.
Our city centre flat consists of a lounge, small kitchen, average size bedroom and a small bathroom; the place is fairly small so it shouldn’t be hard to keep tidy. However every day I seem to be dodging the mine field of clothes on the bedroom floor, and forever picking up his socks which seem to be scattered in the most unlikely places. It almost seems like wherever he walks, he leaves a trail of destruction; items of clothing peeled off and left, or books everywhere and other objects left as a sign of his whereabouts.
Even the bathroom gets its fair share of disaster, the freshly washed towels turn into small damp balls, which get chucked into the corner of the bathroom after he’s had a shower. The sofa acts as a template, leaving an outline of his body from where he slouches in the evening, doing nothing but lift his finger to change the channel. I guess the saying “He’s a man, what do you expect” could be used here a phrase that seems to roll of my mums tongue all too often.
Don’t get me wrong I love living with him, I love the winter evenings snuggling up together on the sofa, always having someone around when I’m feeling down. I even enjoy having someone to cook for. I mean I don’t intend to nag but sometimes it can’t be helped, especially when I’m a tidy freak, you could probably compare me to “Monica” from Friends. Everything has its set place and everything has to be done in a particular way and that way is my way.
He’s not all bad, if you can look past the mountain of washing up and the sky scraper high of ironing you will see a caring, sensitive male species which don’t just exist in fairy tales. The glimpse of Prince Charming shines through on the rare occasion when he offers to help me wash up or offers to cook. Special moments like these are often short lived as the big black cloud casts a shadow over the moment, the shadow being football. Football can turn the most motivated man into a real lazy couch potato, one minute I have his full attention and he’s helping me with the house work and the next his eyes are paralyzed to the TV set. Followed by this is his mood swings if the team he placed a bet on loses. I totally don’t get the concept of football, I mean what is the point in watching men run up and down a pitch chasing a ball and let alone the over dramatics of some of the footballers, to me its seems pointless, but my TV screen seems to continuously be dominated by some football match or another. This is just one grey area of living with your boyfriend another area is shopping.
Now I’m your typical girl when it comes to shopping, if I see something I like I just have to have it, I love my shoes and accessorises. For some unknown reason ever since we moved in together I have felt guilty about every item I buy. So when ever I buy something I rush home from the shops and hide it in the bottom of the wardrobe in case he finds it and questions me over it, then when it comes to wearing the item I say “I’ve had it for ages, just never get the chance to wear it”. You could say that girls do have there flaws too, especially when it comes to shopping. However shopping with him on the other hand is a big NO, he huffs and puffs as we trail around the clothes racks and he doesn’t stop moaning until you agree that you’ve finished looking and mutter the words “we’re going home”. Once at home he moans that his feet ache and that he’s hungry, honestly he always seems to have something to complain about.
At the end of the day though we may think that men are all bad and totally lazy but were would we be without them. I mean he does have a plus side to him; he is never to far away when I need someone to make me smile, and he does bring me flowers after an argument so it’s not all bad. It’s time I face the facts, that within six months I have turned into his mother and unless I change or he changes it will always remain the same. However he wont catch me baking cakes and sewing his socks together , well not for another six months at least.
The keyword is : "...he's helping me with the house work..."
That's not good. If your perception of living together means that the house work is basically yours to do and he's 'helping out' then you will forever be burdened by all the house work.
He needs to learn what it takes to make a home run smoothly. Has he never lived by himself?
I recommend that you each have your designated tasks to do, and that you don't interfere with each others way of doing things. This couldt probably be hard for you, if you want everything done in your way. But him a chance. i'm sure he couldt do the laundry or the dishes if he really had to. And he would have to if you was serious about not wanting to be his mother. You write he makes you glad, happy and feeling wonderful....well you probably do the exact same to him AND in addition you do all the housework. So why shouldn't he take his fair share of the mess and dirt?
Don't become his mother!