A draft of a post I’m working on

Okay, you wanted some advice, so here it is.

Listen, for fuck’s sake. Don’t just pretend to listen. Don’t make listening-face. Don’t start nodding two words into what she’s saying and start formulating your response. You don’t multi-task for shit (something you’re oh-so-proud of), so Just. Listen.

She doesn’t like numbers as much as you. Compared to her, you love numbers. (Which you don’t, but compared to her, you’re like fucking Rainman with the number-love.) Quit being such a dick about it.

The thing where you do all the laundry and take care of the house perfectly fine and get all that domestic stuff done like tumbling dominoes whenever she’s out of town for two weeks and you’re on your own? MMMMaybe you could do that a little bit more when she’s actually home. That might be nice.

Seriously, shut the fuck up sometimes. You’re current obsession is not that interesting when you bring it up the fourth time in two hours.

If it has elastic in it, and it’s hers, it doesn’t go in the dryer. Ditto if it’s anything the feels like you might accidentally tear while handling it, wet.

And don’t bitch about her having stuff that fragile. It’s probably there for you. Jackass.

Yes, as shoes, most shoes for women are terrible. They are also pretty. She gets the point you are trying to make: let it go a little.

Don’t be the reason you’re late for anything.

In a disagreement, you can be happy, or you can be right. Consciously decide which you want to be, before it becomes too late to be either.

Pick “happy” like… 9 times out of 10. Maybe 11 of 12.

Very, very rarely, you get to be happy and right, but you never get to pick when those times are.

Very small gifts, often.

Don't just buy her stuff that's about your personal kink.

Don’t say you will if you won’t. C’mon. Be a grown up.

Never fucking lie. You’ve done well on this so far. Keep it up. It’s good.

Reduce your vocabulary and pronunciation corrections by, like, half. And by 100% when people are around.

“Your friends” count as “people.” (So do hers, should it come up.)

The things you do show how much you care about the Stuff That’s Important To Her so much more than the things you say. Her stuff is just as important as your stuff. Moreso, if she’s her. Which she is.

You don’t call enough. Call more. Without being creepy or annoying, obviously.

Settle for cuddling sometimes, yah big dumby.

Again, ad infinitum, listen. Fucking primate.

I’m thinking of calling this post

“Things I’ve Learned and Advice I’d like to Share With Myself Every Year, On My Anniversary, So I Don’t Forget: A Work In Progress”

Catchy, innit it?

Happy Anniversary, love.


Here’s to my parents, celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary today.


They are the best parts of me, as well as the most… colorful. My first teachers, first storytellers, and first friends. I love them, I’m happy for them, I’m proud of them, and I’m unaccountably lucky that they were able to spend the weekend with us.

Even if they did kick my ass at both bowling AND mini-golf.

Happy Anniversary, My Love

You are the best part of me.


Year one is the paper anniversary (also, apparently, clocks). I tossed around a number of ideas, but getting books for one another is more of a year-round thing in this household (and she steals my watch all the time anyway), so I decided to make something.



The individual post-its read:

There are some people who begin the Zoo at the beginning, and walk quickly as they can past every cage until they get to the way out, but the nicest people go straight to the animal they love the most, and stay there.

Winnie the Pooh is wise.