What’s the secret to a successful marriage?

You know those people you see on social media, or in person, who are so ridiculously in love with their other half that it makes you want to puke your lungs out?

Yeah, that’s me I’m afraid.

I often get asked what the secret to a successful marriage is, and I usually reply with the typical series of clichés:

  • You need to be best friends
  • You should always be honest with each other
  • No secrets
  • Always put them first

Blah blah blah.

But, in truth, one of the major secrets to a successful marriage is affectionate verbal abuse….or, as comedian Micky Flanagan puts it, ‘Casual Cunting’.

So why am I sharing this advice with you?  Well, here is a literal word for word interaction with my wife last night (sorry in advance, Mum).

Now, In order for this to make total sense, you need to know that my wife is a tiny 5’1″.  OK, got it?  Let’s continue…

So I was looking for a lighter and I couldn’t find it.  We both looked everywhere and then suddenly my wife said:

“Oh, here it is in my hand”.

I rolled my eyes and jokingly barked, “How do you hide anything in those little dwarf hands!?”

To which she replied, “I can’t…….except yo’ dick!”

Not only did she get a full on high five as we sat there screaming with laughter, but I fell a little more in love with her.

So the real secret to a successful relationship?  Don’t take it all so seriously.  You’re clearly together because you’re in love (or the other person has a lot of money or whatever), so relax and enjoy being the casual cunts you are.

This is more like it actually! (ahem)

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You want beef?

It’s Sunday and I’m at work.  It’s actually my scheduled day to work, so this isn’t a ranty post about having to work weekends and the world can lick my sweaty bumhole.

Sorry.

Instead, this is a post about the baffling and idiotic mindset of one of my friends and colleagues who is also here today.

So, for context, we have a large bistro on campus here at work which offers all sorts of foods, drinks and dubious stains and spills on the floor.  Usually, when I take my lunch, I head down to the bistro and then text my colleague (let’s call her Numpty) and let her know what free soups they have on offer that day.  She then replies and lets me know which she’d like and I take one back to her.

I’m simply awesome like that.

Well, being a Sunday, there was only one choice of soup instead of the usual three.  Today’s soup was beef chilli.  Yes, I know it’s not technically a soup, but it resembles a soup more than a barrel of squashed frogs.

Actually, squashed frog soup sounds pretty good.

Anyway, when I got down there I sent her a text.  In fact, here is the ACTUAL conversation we had (my comments are in yellow).

twattext

There’s a lot of love between us

I deserved it.

But then again, so did she.  I mean, all she had to do was type ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.  In fact a simple ‘Y’ or ‘N’ would have sufficed.

This is why she’s a twat.

Thank you for not being a dick

Today at work we had a team meeting. It wasn’t the usual fare with topics and issues that needed addressing; this was lighthearted.

So that was nice.

In our department have the option of writing small paper notes of positivity and appreciation.  These are then collected and shared at these meetings for everyone to enjoy.

Is ‘enjoy’ the right word?

It’s all very touchy feely.

Here are some examples with the names changed to protect the innocent (although not THAT innocent as one of them is very, very pregnant):

To James.
I always appreciate the way you come in and say ‘good morning’ to everyone. Your positivity is contagious.
From Kim.

Or…

To Becky.
Thank you for letting me feel your baby’s hiccup.
From Linda.

(“Becky’ is the pregnant one. Linda isn’t just a weirdo.)

(Much)

And…

To Betty.
You’re always putting others first and never have a bad thing to say about anyone.
From George.

You get the idea. It’s enough to make you want to vomit into your mouth a little bit.

This went around the entire room and there wasn’t a single one for me, until right at the end.

To Daniel.
Thank you for not sticking your middle finger up at me today.
From Doris.

Yep, that seems about right.

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Near Miss

This morning, whilst walking to the office, my wife and I saw a man cross the road in front of a cyclist.

To be honest, he had plenty of time to cross the road before she reached him, but I think he knew she was coming and had decided to walk so painfully slow that the cyclist had to swerve, barely missing him.

Although it could never be proved, we all knew he was trying to demonstrate it was his right of way (which it wasn’t); forcing her to slow down (which she didn’t).

As she whizzed by he looked up and shouted “Fuck off!”

Without hesitation she replied “Charming!”

London…the friendliest city in the world.

Bike Near Miss

I’m walking here!

Today on Oxford street in London I saw a man get beeped at by a black cab driver as he crossed a side road.  The traffic lights had changed before the guy had finished crossing and the cabbie wanted to ensure the man knew it.

Believe me, from his two fingered salute I’m pretty sure he knew it.

Without uttering a word, these two strangers had engaged in the following conversation…

Cabbie – “Come on mate, I haven’t got all day here. The lights have changed and I need to turn left into that street, but you’re causing me to delay that turn by a further 4 seconds.  So i’m going to beep my horn at you unnecessarily just so you and those around you are alerted to the fact that you’re taking too long!”

Man – “Fuck off”

I love London. I really, really do(n’t).

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Mental mental chicken oriental

The young Japanese couple who have just sat down opposite me on the train are starting to get on my tits, and they’ve only been sat down for 10 minutes.

Firstly, they’re talking to each other in that baby style adopted by overly sugary couples who call each other honey bunny and cuddly bear, which I now realise is annoying in every language.

Secondly, they haven’t broken eye contact at all, not once; not even to blink.

Thirdly, she keeps flicking his ear, poking his cheeks, running her fingers through his ginger hair (yes, ginger), stroking his nose and grabbing his jaw with one hand so she can use her finger and thumb to force the corners of his mouth up to form a smile.

All of this while sharing a pair of headphones.

I’ve now realised the poor guy isn’t really enjoying his half of this relationship.

Interestingly, whilst writing this, she’d grabbed his hand and was rubbing her own hand with it affectionately.

It mildly suggests YOU WILL FUCKING LOVE ME!!

He pulled away for a second to scratch his nose (I guess from all the stroking) and her tone completely changed. It went icy cold and bitter. She’s now sat there, arms folded, with a face like a smacked arse. In fact, he’s having to lean in towards her just so he keeps his end of the headphones.

Oh, hang on…I think things are ok again as she’s pinching his nose and sticking her fingers up there repeatedly. He seems to be REALLY enjoying that! He threw her a smile that, in my opinion, had tones of “get the fuck off me woman” and she snarled at him. Yes, snarled!

Now she’s playing his overturned hand like a piano, making ‘ding dong’ noises for every finger she presses like a key.

We’re now back to the baby talk and sticky out bottom lip…and plucking an unshaved hair from his chin, or is she picking a spot?  All I know is she hasn’t left his face alone since they’ve sat down.

Oh, now shes taking his photo, tugging his earlobes, pulling the corners of his eyes like a western child pretending to be oriental before their understanding of racism,  pulling his bottom lip down, sticking her fingers in his mouth (go on, bite down hard!), pulling his bottom eyelid down and pinching his cheeks…

Faaaarkin’ hell!

Now I know why samurai warriors would fall on their swords.