Sunday, 25 January 2015

Bad Things That Nobody Tells You About Living With Your Partner

Living together is supposed to be an amazing time in anyone's life. It's a moment where you've decided that you want to share your life with someone. Maybe not your whole life, but the day to day. The real stuff. You want to show them that you never want to be apart from one another. It's not just about you being together for short periods of time, on dates, where you can play a part and give them your best. You want them to truly experience you. For all that you are. And isn't that the purest form of love there is.

It's unfortunate then, that you, are an asshole.

I have been cohabiting for almost a year at this point and although I like it, there are some significant downsides to it that no one ever warned me about. Living with someone is one of those things that is so smeared in positivity that the actual real life implications of it get swept away, as if they're just minor potholes in the road of life.

But some potholes are big enough to smash your tires off their axle and send you careering off into a ditch to your death. So here's a run down of all the reasons why you should lock yourself up in solitary confinement and never bother ever getting close to anyone again.


Normally this wouldn't be considered as a negative. Who would want to sleep alone. Lying there by yourself with nothing but your own thoughts can be an isolating experience. What more could you ask for than another person to hold you as you drift off into a careless slumber.

That is unless they're not tired as well, or they're too hot, or they are pissed off with you. Maybe you do drift off together. What then? All that means is that they're nearer to you to cause more disturbance when they decide to snore all night or maybe just start having a nightmare and kicking you in the nuts only to get pissed off at you some more when you wake them up.

But it doesn't just end at the hugging. I personally have trouble sleeping, so find it easier to fall asleep to nice relaxing music or ASMR. ASMR for anyone who doesn't know is a form of relaxation video where people whisper and make noises. On paper it sounds creepy and something only serial killers would listen to, but it helps me go to sleep.

So the first time I went to play it, my partner told me it was creeping her out and that I should wear buds to not disturb her. Sadly I don't have ear buds, but instead huge headphones. Putting them on my head, they acted like a buffer to lying on my side. There I was unable to sleep without this sleeping aid, but unable to sleep with the restrictions of the sleeping aid. These huge headphones were clamped on my ears and lying there on my back in the silence of the night, it felt like I was in a sensory deprivation tank. I felt nothing around me and the person who was supposed to be in love with me was curled up on the other side of the bed, as far away as she could get. Having dissed my sleeping aid, she was now treating herself to a relaxing night's sleep.

And I realised I was in a deprivation tank. But the tank was my own home and the deprivation was anything physical or emotional.

In most cases many people would turn to the simplest form of therapy to right this lack of feeling. By having a lovely wank. At least that makes you feel regret. But the problem is...


Eventually you just won't have as much sex as you once did. It's sad, but unfortunately true. But it's like anything when getting older. You can't enjoy the things you once did as much.

You used to be able to drink bottle after bottle of Coca Cola without a trouble in the world. But then you hit adult hood and everything made you fat. But that's why Coke Zero exists, so you can have a similar kind of experience without the downside. Porn is no different. Once the sex drops down, you subsidise yourself on the sexual equivalent of Splenda.

What real, adult wish fulfillment amounts to

But then you have to suddenly remember that this isn't your house any more. It's only half your house and even half masturbating near someone else's things is still creepy. And half of creepy is still creepy enough.

It hit me one night while masturbating in bed that I actually was masturbating in someone else's bed. There was no one else in there at the time, but it dawned on me that soon there would be and I imagined what it would be like to be masturbating in a friend's bed, and just how unacceptable that would be. And yet here I was doing the same, like it was nothing.

The only options then are to either masturbate in the living room, which is a terrible location as you'll definitely be walked in on. The kitchen has never really been a viable option.

That leaves your only option left as being the bathroom. But it's much more degrading then I remember it being as a teenager. It's winter now and the bathroom is so cold. With nowhere that is spaced out enough to lie down or get comfortable, you find yourself desperately huddled up in the corner, your bare feet freezing against the linoleum flooring. There's a spider watching you from across the room, sitting almost judgemental on the sink and you just want to ejaculate or die or whichever comes first. It stops being about anything pleasurable, because now it's just a cut down, efficient process to get the cum out of you, just so you can stop feeling this way.

Your laptop starts to run out of batteries, but there's no plug to power it with, so you quicken your pace, desperately clicking through the open tabs to find something that'll make you feel anything.

Finally you ejaculate and it lands with an uneventful splodge on the floor. You wipe it up and stand up, to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. It reflects back a person you don't recognize, but one that is strangely familiar. Someone you remember from long ago, but can't quite place.

Oh and of course there's some asshole that you're living with banging on the door because they need to take a dump, which leads me on to my next point....


I've seen this posted around like it's a positive. Isn't it great that when you're in a relationship you can accept all the warts and all of your partner. My answer to that is no. The human body is disgusting and should be kept private and unspoken of at all costs.

And it comes in so quickly. I always knew other people shit. I always suspected it. I guessed the toilet wasn't in the house just for me. But it's like knowing that your parents must have had sex to have had you. It's an established fact that is fine in principle. But when you hear your mum getting slammed harder than adamantium, it will always take something away from your soul.

Whenever you grab your laptop (not for porn this time), or just a book to read to pass the time during the shit, you will catch your partner's eye and know that they know. Maybe they'll make a little joke. Maybe they won't say anything at all. But it's always known that you're still going to shit. And there's something about that which really takes the thrill out of anything.

The sad part is that now you can't spend any extended period of time in the bathroom without it looking like a shit. You shower too long while daydreaming about a life gone by. You spend a little extra time having a good floss. It all looks like a shit.

Even masturbating becomes hidden under the excuse that you're taking a shit which leads you down a slippery slope. You masturbate because you're not having enough sex and you pretend you're shitting. The idea of you shitting takes the sexual attraction out of the relationship, so you end up masturbating more and so pretending to shit more. By the end of it, your partner just thinks you've got bowel cancer and sees you as nothing more than a 24/7 shit machine that she wants nowhere near her.

And the cause of it is clear

So in the end you become an ostracised, eternally shitting freak who is looked upon with disgust by your other half. Well at least you can still spend some quality time with your friends. Oh wait....


People say that the best part of living with your partner is it's like having a sleepover that never ends. After all, your partner is your best friend. A friendship filled with unconditional love and never ending fun.

The problem is, if you've ever had a prolonged sleepover with a friend, you'll know how shit that can be. Sometimes you just want to be by yourself and having a never ending sleepover is like being told you can have a nymphomaniac for a girlfriend. It sounds great at first, but after the first few days, it starts to become tiring and in the end you've just got nothing left to give.

Imagine that and then imagine that it's your life. Well done, now you can hate yourself as well.

When you have all this time spent with someone else, it can be hard to have other people around. Aside from now hating human contact because of how often you have to be around them now, when you do want to have a friend over to stay, it's just not the same.

It's like a domestic version of 1984. You have a friend around to stay and suddenly everything you do is under the careful watch of someone else. They're probably off doing their own thing, but there's something about an extra person being there, indirectly listening to everything you're doing, that throws you. The starting chit chat might be alright, but when you want to get onto the big stuff, like how much you hate your life, your work, or maybe even the odd gripe about your relationship; all of those things suddenly become a big minefield.

Plus now that everything in the house is shared, by taking up the entertainment features of the house, you're effectively acting like a big parent to your partner. When you have friends around, they must go to their room. It makes you feel like a dick because you know they want to escape into a fantasy realm of entertainment to get away from their life as well. But tonight, it'll just have to be bad free to play tablet games in bed for them.

Then that night when everyone's asleep, you'll finally stumble off to your room. You lie in bed and eventually roll over to your partner for some sex, but they are fast asleep, so you grab your laptop and head towards the bathroom. As you open the door, they stir to the sound and sit up. “Taking a shit?”, they ask you as you disappear into the bathroom. “Yes”, you respond emotionless as you close the door and perch yourself on the cold floor.

The spider watches you from his place on the sink. His eight eyes all focused on you. You stare back. Your two eyes filling with tears.

But at least there's always one close friend, just a fridge away