We’ve all made the mistake when we are snuggling up to our significant other and your finger accidentally grazes over their back when you move, and what do you know? They roll over, gasping as if an angel blessed them, and say, “Yeahhhhhh. Back scratch?” DAMNIT.
This is what happened last night when Sam and I were going to bed. I tried my masterful compromising skills after he said, “five minutes.” Five minutes is like death to the fingers. That’s a long ass time, especially when you’re tired and you want to go to bed.
“Mmmm, how about half of that? So, three minutes.”
“Three minutes is not half…”
“Sure it is, if you think really, really hard.” — I haven’t taken math since 2009. Others claim it was the easiest math course to take at UNH….I got a D.
“Four minutes,” he says.
“Two and a half.”
“Three minutes,” he says.
I still got my way mwuahahahahaha. I don’t even feel bad because he does the same thing to me. The slightest tickle with his finger on the nape of neck and I’m requesting twenty minute back scratches while he’s watching his favorite movie, Cool Runnings.
Every good relationship must be able to compromise. That way, for one, you’re not being dragged around like a rag doll doing obscenely things and you’re also not acting like the Queen of England, getting everything your heart desires.
I keep thinking about those ID shows, like Snapped, I’d Kill For You, and Deadly Affairs. I think it’s safe to say, those couples had no compromising skills at all. Or maybe those shows just aren’t explaining things right. An example would be a married couple having financial issues, until the wife looks up and says, “Hey, let’s kill my parents. They’re loaded. They are selfish and greedy and won’t give me a dime. Whadda ya say?” The husband sits down with his cup of coffee, looks deep into her eyes, and says, “I’m with you. Let’s do this.”
What are the odds? How is it that two nut-job crazy-ass people end up together and have the same mind? I’m pretty sure if Sam sat down and seriously came up with a plan to kill someone, I’d be like, “Orrrrrrrrr, I can make pancakes.”
Usually at the end of those shows, one of the two throws the other under the bus. I can always see that one coming. The wife is like, “HE MADE ME DO IT! He made me believe that my parents were out to get me!”
The husband is like:
There is no, “You jump, I jump” business when it comes to the ID channel. Moral of the story – compromise the hell out of everything. You don’t want to do the dishes? Tell him you’ll do half. He hates cleaning the kitty litter? Tell him he has to deal with the trash then, and you’ll deal with the cat.
But of course, be a good person. Do something for them just because they are the bees knees. He’s your Beast to his Belle. He’s your Dylan O’Brien to his Jessica Alba. He’s your Pluto to his Pluto.