It's not a deal-breaker. It's not even necessarily something that makes them angry. After a while, it can even be endearing. But that doesn't mean these Redditors don't want to dish on that one aspect of their relationship that neither party ever mentions.
Breathe new life
I’m a divorce lawyer and a married man. Something I’ve seen come up in divorces and try to make sure never happens in my own is when one person feels they don’t have a life outside their relationship and family.
That feeling will swelter and grate for years, and I have seen it finally be the end of long marriages. The spouse who feels they have nothing outside of the marriage eventually blames the other spouse for that. My wife works part-time and is home part time, so I started being pushy about her going out occasionally while I stay home with the kids. (And I really did have to get pushy about it).
She wound up playing on an indoor soccer team and getting drinks more regularly with friends. She would often thank me later for being insistent that she treat herself, and I think it helped relieve something that could have otherwise festered between us.
Her: leaves half-finished glasses of water everywhere. Also, she puts a glass of water on the bedside despite the fact that she knocks it over at least twice a week.
Me: Human perfection, no flaws.
We have this trinket – a small glass monkey. It started with me putting it on his study desk in secret. He would then put it back on mine. Now it has escalated to us hiding it in each other’s stuff all around the house (underwear drawers, shoes, and luggage). We have never spoken about it.
My wife uses all the dishes when she cooks. I don’t even know how that’s possible. I’m grateful for the meal, but salty that whoever doesn’t cook does the dishes.
Never say never again.
When we got together in our early twenties, I moved in with him pretty quickly. He was like, “Feel just like you’re at home. What’s mine is yours, but NEVER open the top drawer of the nightstand.”
So I was living there with him for almost a, year thinking that was where his porn collection was stored or something like that. We never talked about it, mostly because I was pretty sure I knew what was in there anyway – not that I mind.
One evening I was laying on the bed and he was at the computer. I was like: “I wish I had my Gameboy Color here with me. I haven’t played Pokemon in years and I would like to play it so badly right now.” His answer was, of course, “Open the top drawer of the nightstand!”
And there it was: his old Gameboy. Basically, respect your partner’s little secrets and try to never grow up is the advice I would give you.
Keeping it simple.
80% of our marriage is one of us saying “where are my keys?” and the other replying, “What?!” I don’t think this will change.
Wife won’t screw.
My wife doesn’t screw the top back on the bottle of… anything. Everything with a lid is a potential bomb.
The guilty ones.
Neither of us puts away the laundry. The rule is supposed to be one of us washes and the other puts it away, but neither of us do it. All our clothes just sit in baskets 99% of the time. It irks us both, but we’re both guilty so we keep our mouths shut.
Break up for the kids.
We both have children. They really don’t get along. Our marriage is almost sickeningly perfect aside from that.
She’s no Queen
She once bragged about being good at chess and I beat her in 5 moves using a tactic I found on YouTube. We don’t speak of chess anymore.
My wife leaves food out on the counter without ever putting it away. It disgusts me, and I end up cleaning up after her every day.
I leave my socks everywhere, which she finds repulsive. But she cleans them up and never says anything.
Neither of us are changing our ways, so we just accept it.
Looking out for number 2.
Here’s a story from a couple I know. For the longest time, the guy would walk into the bathroom and there was a poop in the toilet. Frustrated, he would flush and go about his day.
One day he walks in and finds their cat squatting over the toilet, pooping. When he tells his wife about it, she says, “I thought that was you!”
Both parties were flushing the toilet, annoyed at the other one, and turns out it was the cat.
The never-ending story.
My wife is the absolute worst storyteller ever. She is so smart and funny, but my goodness, her stories go on forever. She takes a story that should take 2 minutes to tell and turns it into a 25-minute epic, including every single detail of what happened.
The Silence Is There
The two relationships I was in directly before I met my wife ended when my partner died. Nothing suspicious, they both passed away from cancer. Different cancers. But my wife knows I really miss one of them still and we never talk about it.
Friend (of the family) with benefits.
My wife’s best friend and I were friends with benefits for a few months before my wife and I got together. Nothing is ever said about it.
That’s how I roll.
Every time he puts on a new toilet paper roll, he does it upside down. I flip it over every time. Sixteen years and counting.
She knows too much.
Because we’ve known each other since childhood, she remembers all the times I’ve cried like a little baby over the stupidest things. I dread the day she figures out how to use that against me…
Taking a back seat.
She loves the dog more than me. I know it, she knows it, the dog knows it. I’m sure it’ll be the same with the kids, but honestly it’s why I’m marrying her.
I’m not threatened or jealous of my golden doodle, he’s just a cuddle monster.
At least he reads.
Every time we are driving by an outdoor mall or anywhere with a lot of store fronts, he will read every. Single. Store. Out. Loud. Every time.
It drives me insane that he eats in bed. Not snacks, but full-blown meals. Spaghetti in bed. Chinese food in bed. Sushi IN BED. I freak out that he’s going to spill something all over and I’m going to have to wake up to help him change the sheets again. He’s a buck forty soaking wet so I don’t even know where it goes.
If you asked him what the elephant in the room is, he’d tell you it’s that I never throw things away. From that piece of paper I needed for that one class three months ago, or the goat cheese in the freezer from before that. He’s constantly coming to me with two things in his hands saying I can only keep one.
I’ve seen her ex showering at the gym and his junk is about twice as long and thick as mine.
We’ve finally worked out after 13 years together that sleeping in the same room just doesn’t work for us and we are happier and healthier sleeping in separate rooms.
It means we have to prioritize intimacy, but we are happier and saner sleeping in his and hers rooms. He snores and likes to watch movies on his iPad until the middle of the night, and I wake up if a mouse rolls over two blocks away. Years of sleep deprivation have taught us both that a good night’s rest makes us more loving partners to each other.
He continually thinks I hide his things when he can’t find something. The only thing I’ve ever “hidden” were his plethora of cargo shorts. I hid those in the trash.
Hampering our relationship.
My husband refuses to use our dirty clothes hamper. Socks and underwear are discarded whereever he feels like kicking them off.
I, on the other hand love to cook huge, elaborate meals but refuse to eat left overs. Also, I put ice in my wine like a heathen.
When God closes a drawer, he opens a window.
He leaves any and all doors and drawers open after getting what he needs out of them. The kitchen cabinets, the dishwasher, the microwave, bathroom vanity, closets, dressers, night stands. I can always tell whether or not he’s home when I walk through the front door. If he’s there, it will look like our kitchen is about to be ransacked.
I’ve called him out on it twice – when I first noticed it was a trend and the time after that – and he was genuinely surprised. He was like, “you’re screwing with me, you opened some of those.” Nope. Seven cabinets and drawers apparently had to be opened for you to make your snack.
He sincerely apologized, but here we are 4 years later and I still just follow him around closing cabinets and drawers after he leaves the room. It’s too comical to fight over, and it really doesn’t even bother me terribly, so I just don’t bring it up.
There is a small red colored magnet hidden somewhere in the house. When it’s found, it has to be moved to another hiding place. We’ve been doing this for 15 years now but we never talk about it.
It was a long time ago so it doesn’t matter now, but one time I farted in front of her whole family while we were all crowded around a small table looking at something. It was a bad one. One of those ones that’s hot coming out. Nobody flinched, left the table, or ever said a word about it.
They cancel out.
I fall asleep with my light on nearly every night while reading before bed. I can usually be found face down in a book or my Kindle, or I’ll be curled up with it like it’s a stuffed animal. My husband has to find a way to get the book/Kindle away from me without waking me up.
He’s trash at cleaning the glass lids to our pans (they still look filthy with grease and food after he’s done washing up), and he frequently leaves bits of facial hair all over the bathroom sink.
We just take this stuff in stride. They’re not deal-breakers, and we both know we’re far from perfect.
I learned it by watching you.
I taught her to drive when she was about 20 years old. 30 years later, she is still a slow and excessively cautious driver. So if she is driving, I have to allow for extra time to get where we’re going, as well as be accepting of the fact she might take a different route. When I’m driving, she knows to put her earbuds in and close her eyes or else she will be terrified.
He leaves nearly everything he owns in his pockets when he puts his shorts or jeans in the washing machine.
The fart whisperer.
On multiple occasions in our dozen years of marriage, my wife has talked to my farts. As in: I fart, and from across the house I hear, “What was that, honey?”
It’s little things like this that I wake up for every morning.
So… why is our house full of pigs?
Not me but my parents.
We’re a Chinese family and my father is born in the Chinese zodiac year of the pig. After they were married, my mother started buying pig-themed things for the house. A pillowcase featuring a farm scene, a mug in the shape of a pig, pig figurines, etc.
My father thought my mother liked pigs because she kept buying pig-themed things, so he started buying pig-themed things for the house, too.
10 years later, with the house filled with pig-themed things, they have a conversation and realize that neither of them really were into pigs and they were just buying them for the other person.
Now guests who come over see pigs all over the place and think my parents collect them and they buy more pig-themed things as gifts for birthdays, anniversaries, etc.
Why do you always move my stuff?!
He always moves my things. My shampoo or conditioner in the shower are never where they’re suppose to be. Why do you have to move it? What are you doing that it needs to be moved around? Babe, where are my new shoes? You haven’t seen them? Three months later I find them in a suitcase in the closet. Babe where did that bill go that I paid last week? When we were moving I found like 10 paid (but not filed away) bills in a shoe box shoved all the way under the bed.
But on my part, I leave messes. It’s not like I do it on purpose, it just happens and I’m somehow unable to see it as a mess. He is like this cleaning machine. First thing he does when he wakes up? Automatically line everything up on the table. I come home from work on his days off and the house is too organized. He doesn’t remember doing it half the time, hence the never-worn cute shoes in a suitcase. His answer is, ‘I’ve never seen those’. We got wasted in Liverpool one night and spent the night at a friend’s house. We all woke up and it had looked like a maid had come through. HE DIDN’T REMEMBER DOING IT. His friends said it was normal and they’d never mention it to him before in case he stopped doing it.
Trying to share driving responsibilities.
I had 3 really oppressive chronic illnesses emerge while we were dating. It drastically changed a lot about my life, mid-relationship. He rolled with it like a champ.
But then some random stuff happened like I can’t drive on freeways at night now, at all. It’s harder during the day, too, but night has become impossible. So he does all the long drives back home from visiting family or taking day trips. I do all the local driving that does not involve the freeway, and he drives us every other time. And we end up taking these trips several times a month, on top of his already lengthy commutes. I know he doesn’t always want to drive, but he knows it’s not a choice I made, and want us to be as safe as possible, so he just does it. I keep these sort of imbalances in mind whenever I consider complaining about the plethora of little, mindless but ultimately harmless messes he leaves around the house.
My parents once had to redo their entire dining room due to The Ranch Dressing Incident.
Picture if you will, a mid-eighties style formal dining room. Wheatstalk pattern wallpaper, that pewter ‘Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread’ plaque, elaborate antique mahogany buffet and hutch, full of wedding China.
Now understand that my parents had two hungry girls to feed and Dad had a Costco membership. My little sister LOVED ranch. Hidden Valley Ranch came in gallon bottles at Costco. They looked like regular bottles on steroids. Now, the rest of us used Italian or Blue Cheese Dressing, and that bottle was my sister’s responsibility alone.
She never put on lids.
Ranch needs to be shaken before pouring.
Ranch has a particular viscosity that allows it to hang together in ropey strands, even at high speed.
It. Went. Everywhere. On all of us, the walls, the ceiling, the dog, like some sort of movie special effects. The chandelier had to be taken down and professionally cleaned and rewired.
The wallpaper was RUINED. The ceiling paint too. The woodwork appreciated the oil and was very shiny, if a bit smelly until we lemon oil sponged it all.
The room is now painted a shade specifically called ‘Ranch Green’.
Edited for clarity.