You Can’t Say That!
My Mum has always told me never to judge other people’s relationships by the standards of my own, because people always negotiate their own compromises, and they are never the same as yours.
I know this is pretty obvious, but when you actually look at it some of the balances we strike amongst ourselves are quite amazing, and some of them really quite funny.
I remember Mrs. Toad’s brother bristling rather considerably when I, unthinkingly, called her a ‘minging bitch’ in the house once. That’s something we have both been known to call one another, and there’s a reason it isn’t offensive: our previous cleaning lady’s ex girlfriend was a complete hygiene freak, to the point of OCD, and she rather venomously referred to her ex as a ‘minging bitch’ because she was so unclean. Mrs. Toad and I found this so funny that it’s been a part of our vocabulary ever since, and we’re so used to it now that we forgot how it might sound to other people.
My brother and his missus were visiting once when she snarled at him for being an idiot. As his elder brother my hackles instantly went up – how dare she speak to him like that, dammit, if she wasn’t going to be respectful then she could bloody well piss off. That is exactly what went through my head; and this from the man who calls his wife a minging bitch with careless abandon.
In fact Mrs. Toad and I are known to mix in ’stupid fucking whore’ and various other colouful epithets amongst the more traditional pet names for one another – it’s just part of how we are, for some reason. Really, though, you’d think that kind of behaviour would be totally unacceptable and when you look at it in isolation it’s ridiculous that it’s not only normal for us, but actually affectionate. Yet I doubt that anyone who knows us would suggest for a second that we don’t adore each other or that there was even the tiniest lack of respect in our relationship.
So I guess I kind of have to remind myself of this every once in a while when we’re in the pub and I see people behaving towards one another in ways which makes my skin crawl or my lip curl. Basically, if I wasn’t actually in my own relationship, I’d think it was a disaster – an abusive disaster, probably. You never know what someone wants from another person, I guess, or what strange things counterbalance other things to create relationships in some kind of equilibrium.
Sorry, this wasn’t meant to be a profound post, nor anything other than obvious. It just occurred to me again the other day just how awful Mrs. Toad and I can seem to be to one another, and yet how affectionate we think we’re being at the time. And it made me laugh, so there you go.
uh huh?
oh, it’s that time of year again when she’s gone just *that* many days too long, eh? hehehe you are such a silly man! And you don’t even give us a song or two? Shameful, Matthew!! But yes, you know the horrible things M.Chutney and I say to one another, including but not limited to “fucking whore,” “stupid cow,” and “crazy bitch.” It’s only when she calls me beautiful or brilliant that I get really upset and uncomfortable… go figure! xoxo
She’s been gone for the best part of two weeks – back on Saturday.
You’re right, if she said anything literally nice, as opposed to superficially abusive but nicely meant, it would sound completely out of character and downright weird.
Chutters – don’t worry mate, it’s a bit over your head, this one.
This morning I realised that Noel had left her toothbrush and toothpaste in the kitchen. I walked downstairs to get them for her, started thinking about something else and was already half way back up the stairs before I realised that I was in fact holding a bottle of washing up liquid and not her teeth cleaning implements.
The point of the story? The misses may have a point; I may be an idiot.
It’s so ludicrous. You enter into so many stupid deals, just because you like someone, and then you realise how daft your relationship looks to anyone with a modicum of sense…
Aww but Ben, you’re her idiot
I have personally watched Ben Young obliviously putting an electric kettle on a gas stove, turn it on and melt it so I feel qualified to serve as a prosecution witness in the idiot trial if it ever comes to it.
Erm yes, that really was quite special. There should be some sort of prize for that kind of Nobel Prize-level stupidity.
i knew what you were talking about…..just didn’t understand why you felt the need to share it with us numbnuts
It’s a blog. It’s personal. It’s not a magazine.
uh huh
It’s always the fucking same with you the minute I start rambling. If you don’t like it, read a magazine, for fuck’s sake.
love you pal
Give us a kiss, ya cunt.
slobbery kisses all round
Eww..