We all have certain expectations when it comes to our friends, family and of course, our significant other. My expectations may differ from others as I never expect anything from anyone that I wouldn’t otherwise do myself.
For example: I hate to call anyone. This may mean that I am incredibly lazy, but I do honestly find it tedious to talk to a faceless person about menial topics. Thus, I never expect someone keep in touch via phone when I’m not willing to do so myself.
When it comes to family, my only expectation is to always be there for each other when needed; whether that’s advice, cuddles, a well-timed lecture or to re-stock the refrigerator.
Significant others … hmm.
This is tricky as we tend to place multiple expectations on these poor, helpless creatures without knowledge on how to find the grocery store, where the washer and dryer is located or even when the best time to load and unload the dishwasher may be. And eating? The poor buggers would starve to death if dinner wasn’t in regular, constant supply. I also suspect they have no idea what a hospital corner is because they have never made the bed.
But these are the small things, aren’t they? It’s not the end of the world if your partner isn’t domestically trained or a Michelin star chef. What does tend to make the blood boil is the lack of listening skills. Like the action of high-fiving, I absolutely hate to repeat myself. I figure if I’ve said my peace once, repeating it is simply a good waste of a busy woman’s time.
Enter my significant other … The Cockney. I’m fairly certain he spends his days plotting to drive me wild with his incessant habit of ignoring every word that ever leaves my mouth. My phone is constantly lighting up with missed calls because he’s forgotten I was going out with a friend or that I wouldn’t be home for dinner. Weekends can be filled with dour moods because I’m on a flight across country, he didn’t mark it in his calendar and woken up to an empty house—breakfast now in jeopardy.
I’ve now reached a point in my life where I accept two week old clothes still hanging over the bedroom chair yet to be put away, but absolutely fly off the handle if I’m asked how I have my coffee …. again.
I’m sure the lesson in this is not to ever have expectations of another human being. It would reduce the amount of teeth-clenching adopted and dramatically lower my blood pressure. I guess the real question is: when did we start placing roles and expectations on one another? When did life become divided by gender roles and how can we sit back and relax our ideals a bit more?
I don’t know the answer, but I’ll figure it out … right after I cook dinner, do the washing, vacuum the floors … etc, etc, etc.