There are a few phrases that I have grown to hate. Some of them merely make me squirm. Thankfully, it’s not a long list.
- Top of the list: making love. I absolutely, positively HATE that phrase. You know how the word moist grosses a lot of people out? That’s the exact same way I feel about making love. I literally shudder at the phrase. Yuck! I think it’s so artificial, pretentious and stupid. What does that even mean? It makes no sense. Rubbing genitals together somehow translates into making something? Love is somehow made? What is wrong with saying having sex or even fucking? Yes, I know. I’m just one big huge unromantic. I can’t help it. Seriously, I could be hot and heavy with an incredible looking guy who makes all the right parts hum in the right way and if he paused to ask me, “Do you want to make love?” I would have to stop everything right then and there. “No, thank you; you have just grossed me out. I’ll be on my way now. Good-bye!”
- Also not a fan of the phrase my/our marriage. Another thing that sounds pretentious. Our marriage is the most important thing to me! Disclaimer: I once said that very thing to Cousinfucker when we were in false reconciliation. My marriage is my priority. Our marriage this; my marriage that. Marriage is not a living, breathing thing. It’s not a person. It’s a relationship status. I get that occasionally a person will need a qualifier, i.e. Our marriage is not perfect, or my marriage isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be or what you see on Facebook isn’t a true representation of what our marriage is like. When used like that I understand the need for it. It’s when it’s elevated to this lofty symbol, a possession in fact, that I have a problem. When used that way it seems pretentious. As I said, I used the phrase myself. That’s probably why I hate it so much. For the record, I don’t mind: I love married life or marriage is great.
- My man/my woman/old man/old lady I hate all of those. My man sounds so juvenile and possessive. People are not possessions! Some people have argued that we say, “My child/daugher/son/husband/wife/mom/etc.” To me those speak of specific relationships. Fred is my husband, not Peter. That is my child; the other one is Bethany’s child. It’s about specifying. Rock Star made the cheer team. Oh, that’s nice. How do you know Rock Star? She’s my daughter. I use my niece to differentiate between someone else’s niece or to differentiate between my niece vs. her daughter vs. her best friend’s child. I’m Queen B’s aunt and Rock Star and Picasso’s mom. How do you know Matt? He’s my husband. Does any of that make sense? Again when you’re using a qualifier in those situations you are explaining the relationship, not staking a claim. I will admit that there are times people can use my husband/wife when a fucking name would do! I answered phones for someone who would always ask to speak to her husband. Because if she just asked for Bob people wouldn’t know he was her husband!!! In that situation she very much used my husband the way some others use my man, staking her claim. My man/woman doesn’t explain the relationship; it merely shows that you think someone belongs to you. Is your man your husband, your boyfriend, your fiancé, your live-in lover, some random guy you just started dating tonight? No one knows. We only know that he is your man! He’s mine! You can’t have him. Stay away! Hell, they may as well pee on the person and mark their territory. As for my old man/old lady personally I have just always found calling someone your old man/old lady to be a tad bit insulting and dismissive. Her? Yeah, don’t mind her; that’s just my old lady. It is not a kind description although I’m sure there are those people out there who say it with much love.
- Family time! Oh, Cousinfucker was big on this one. The whole time he was traveling and would be home on weekends only it was all about the family time. I got so sick of hearing that phrase. Normally, I’m sure it’s a very nice phrase. Unfortunately, it was used as a club to beat me into submission. He couldn’t be expected to mind our child while I got some work done or cleaned the house while he was home. Oh no! We needed to be spending family time together! Every fucking minute he was home we should be spending together. Unless he had something he needed to do, of course. Or a nap to take. I couldn’t read the damn paper because it took time away from him but he could nap. What can I say? It’s a trigger for me.
- Focus on the future! Another phrase that benefitted Mr. Shithead while beating me into submission. Let’s not talk about my affair with Harley; we should focus on the future. Let’s not talk about how hurt you are, or any of your insecurities. Let’s focus on the future. Don’t hold a grudge against my family or ask me to stick up for you. Focus on the future! Hey, here’s an idea! Instead of whining and crying about everything you’re so sad about and focusing on all the money you’re going to have to pay me why not focus on the future! Focus on the great life you’re going to have with Harley and focus on getting yourself a job and paying me some damn spousal and child support! There’s the future for you! Focus on it, you sonofabitch.
- Finally, any talk of happiness when it comes out of his mouth. Fortunately I don’t ever hear him talk so I don’t have to hear about his happiness or lack thereof. I’m still jaded from having him tell me upon discovery of his EA, “You know I haven’t been happy in years.” Oh well, that makes all the difference in the world! By all means, go ahead and plan a future with your cousin then. Yes, because the first step in divorce proceedings is not contacting a lawyer; it’s having an affair with an ugly jailbird skank. You wouldn’t want to do something crazy like get a divorce before you had Wife #2 lined up. I’m also fairly certain that knowing he told Jezebel how happy Harley made him does not bode well for any talk of happiness either. All that walking vagina had to do was tell him everything she was going to do to him and he was supposedly happy. I cooked for him, cleaned for him, did his laundry, put away his clothes, made his plate, bore his children, raised his children, moved all over the country for him, made his appointments, took care of all the shopping for the house, kids and pets, shuffled the pets to the vet’s, picked up his prescriptions and his dry cleaning, paid the bills and pretty much did everything shy of wiping his ass and cutting his meat for him but I didn’t make him happy. Yep, that’s a sore spot even though I know he is a bottomless crevice of need. Right along with that was his mention a year or so later of how “he never should have tried to be happy”. Excuse me? I’ve been dancing around here like an idiot trying to keep you happy and give you no excuse to cheat on me again, but you’re going to play the poor, pitiful victim? Of course he was! I’m sure all talk of happiness is not wasted on me; I’m equally sure that I never want to hear about Cousinfucker’s happiness level ever again!
Now that you know what phrases I hate, what are some of the phrases you out there in BloggerLand hate as well?