I stole this meme from Dooce because, unlike Ms. Armstrong (the authoress of that site), I like memes. They are a perfect fit for the lazy side of me who doesn’t want to have to constantly think of things about which to write.
What are your middle names?
Mine is Sue (or Sioux, if you prefer)…The Old Man’s is David.
How long have you been together?
This time? Three years…but we actually got together 13 ½ years ago. We were together for five years, then broke up for several before he realized his undying love for me and that he just could not possibly live without me for one second longer.
At least, that’s how I tell the story.
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
About thirty seconds.
Who asked whom out?
Actually, the proper question, grammatically-speaking, would be “Who asked out whom?” I mean, if you’re going to go to the trouble of using “whom” why not use correct grammar for the entire sentence?
But I digress...the question, after all, was not “Who is more anal-retentive?”
Officially, he asked me out; but since I essentially threw myself at his crotchal area when first we met, it’s pretty much a tie.
How old are each of you?
I am 42, he is 49. Gonna be fifty-friggin’-years-old in November! Ha! I guess I shouldn’t give him much grief, seeing as it will then be payback time in but a few years…but I make no promises.
As a side note, for some reason he has been receiving information in the mail from the AARP for like two years now. He swears it is an error on their part, but I have the feeling he may have lied to me about his age.
Whose siblings do you see the most?
Mine. Because I am absurdly close to my family.
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Generally, when considering the entire breadth and width of our years together, money woes; but I will say that we have gotten much better at dealing with that stress over the years. A) Neither one of us (aside from the occasional splurge) is especially irresponsible when it comes to money, so it’s not like either of us can legitimately point any fingers when we come up short financially. B) I think we both finally figured out that we’re in this together and if one suffers the other does, as well and 3) I make a helluva lot more dough than I used to.
While it has not come up as often as money-woes, I think these days the more challenging situation is dealing with my tendency toward depression. In a nutshell, The Old Man doesn’t get it and so he doesn’t know how to deal with it. Since I don’t always understand it myself it is difficult for me to express it to him and I certainly have no quick fix (but can you imagine the money I could make if I came up with one?).
After the Halloween Incident, 2008, there was an obvious reason for my depression and the Old Man was therefore much more understanding and tolerant of it than he has been in the past. Being a man, though, if he can’t identify and quantify a problem and then fix it with tools and/or logic, he becomes overwhelmed. So then I have to deal not only with my depression, but with a man who has little patience for it.
Did you go to the same school?
Nope.
Are you from the same home town?
Not really. I was born in Appleton, Wisconsin and raised in a suburb of Los Angeles. The Old Man was born and raised in a suburb of LA, but one which is about fifteen - twenty miles away from mine.
Who is smarter?
One of the main things I love about our relationship is that we are each smart, but in very different ways. The Old Man has an engineer’s mind; a mechanic’s mind. He can fix things easily and can explain why planes don’t fall out of the sky and why bullets in that small gun over there will actually do more damage to the human body than bullets from that huge gun over there. He can dismantle your computer and put it back together again. I have little doubt that, if the opportunity arose, he would be able to break out of prison using only two sheets of notebook paper and a ball point pen.
I can tell you how to correctly spell large words.
I can also tell you exactly how the Gunfight went down at the OK Corral. I have yet to determine just why that is useful in life, but I feel certain that it will come in handy some day.
Who is the most sensitive?
Um...That would be me. I go nowhere without a box of tissues.
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Wow. We eat out like twice each week (one night and usually on Sunday mornings) and we have a lot of favorites. I will say, though, that since we moved to the OC we haven’t really found “favorite” places in town. There were lots of places in Long Beach: Utopia, La Creperie, Azteca (yummy Chicken Machaca and Eggs!)…
For special occasions (or when we are in the neighborhood for some reason), we like to go to Gladstones 4 Fish in Malibu.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
New Mexico. All of the far-away places I have been have been sans Old Man.
Who has the craziest exes?
Definitely The Old Man, but really that’s only because I don’t really have any exes. Not in any real sense of that word. My twenties were spent sifting through a series of idiots, alcoholics, numb-nuts, low-lifes and drummers (I know – that’s redundant) who were really just a way of passing time. I called myself “The Three-Month Queen”. Those were not really relationships, per se.
Conversely, I can not believe The Old Man was ever married to the mother of his children. And the fact that he then ended up with me is disturbing. You know, I try to tell myself it’s because he learned his lesson and knew, after his divorce, exactly what he did not want in a woman and so found me. But still…
Who has the worst temper?
I tend to blow more often (I blame the red hair); but when he blows, man he really blows. And you don’t want to be anywhere within a three mile radius.
Who does the cooking?
I do. Aside from warming up some chicken broth for me after The Halloween Incident, 2008, The Old Man has never made a meal for me (a fact about which I reminded him last night, after he made himself a most delicious-looking grilled chicken breast and swiss cheese sandwich on grilled sourdough).
I enjoy cooking for us, but I am not all that great at it. I constantly look for new recipes (I have to use recipes) and solicit feedback, but the frustrating thing is that I never get much feedback, regardless. It is infuriating cooking for somebody who never tells you what he likes and doesn’t like and gives you the same, patented, “uh-huh” every time you ask if he likes what you have made.
Who is the neat-freak?
I used to be a neat freak. Now I just don’t have the energy to care that much. I like things to be clean. Things can be messy or a tad cluttered (I won’t throw a hissy fit if you leave your jeans laying across the chair in the bedroom), but they must be clean. In fact, I am a tad germophobic. The Old Man, however, has little tolerance for mess, but I wouldn’t sit on his toilet right now if you told me that every drop of my pee which hits the bowl would turn to gold.
And yes, we use separate toilets. See definition of germophobe.
Who is more stubborn?
Um...that is quite a contest, I assure you. And I stubbornly refuse to admit that I often win.
Who hogs the bed?
Definitely The Old Man. But, you know – he is 6’4” tall and I am a mere 5’1 ¾” (but I say I’m five-foot-two).
Who wakes up earlier?
We both wake up at the same time, but it takes me far longer to actually get moving.
Where was your first date?
We went to see Phenomenon starring John Travolta. Bad movie, but I still remember the feeling of The Old Man’s hand on my back as we walked to a restaurant for coffee afterward. I know that sounds like an overly-dramatic line from one of those stupid Twilight books, but it’s true.
Who is more jealous?
The Old Man. I don’t get jealous at all, but I sometimes pretend I do just to make him feel good.
How long did it take to get serious?
About thirty seconds.
Who eats more?
I eat more often throughout the day, but there is no way in hell I could eat as much at one time as he can. Again – he is 6’4” tall and I am a mere 5’1 ¾” (but I say I’m five-foot-two).
Who does the laundry?
Each of us does our own laundry. I know that’s weird, but A) I have a lot of delicates which I will not let him wash because I learned my lesson long ago when he tried to “help” me out and everything shrunk to half it’s size and B) He is extremely picky about how his undershirts get folded.
We usually wash our whites together (although he folds his and I mine) and whoever runs out of undies first is the one who throws them all in the washer.
Who's better with the computer?
That would be The Old Man. I don’t know and I don’t care to know. I just want to turn it on and have it do what I need it to do.
Who drives when you are together?
We are usually in my car and so I am usually the one driving because The Old Man hates my car. These days, The Old Man’s son is “borrowing” his car (although after a year I don’t really consider it “borrowing” anymore) and so The Old Man’s only transportation is his motorcycle.
However, do not think that the fact that it’s my car and he hates to drive it will keep The Old Man from lecturing me every single time we go somewhere about my supposed lack of driving skills. Actually, that should have been my answer to the question about difficult situations as a couple. We argue almost every time we get in the car. Because I am actually a great driver, but he refuses to admit that fact.
What are your middle names?
Mine is Sue (or Sioux, if you prefer)…The Old Man’s is David.
How long have you been together?
This time? Three years…but we actually got together 13 ½ years ago. We were together for five years, then broke up for several before he realized his undying love for me and that he just could not possibly live without me for one second longer.
At least, that’s how I tell the story.
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
About thirty seconds.
Who asked whom out?
Actually, the proper question, grammatically-speaking, would be “Who asked out whom?” I mean, if you’re going to go to the trouble of using “whom” why not use correct grammar for the entire sentence?
But I digress...the question, after all, was not “Who is more anal-retentive?”
Officially, he asked me out; but since I essentially threw myself at his crotchal area when first we met, it’s pretty much a tie.
How old are each of you?
I am 42, he is 49. Gonna be fifty-friggin’-years-old in November! Ha! I guess I shouldn’t give him much grief, seeing as it will then be payback time in but a few years…but I make no promises.
As a side note, for some reason he has been receiving information in the mail from the AARP for like two years now. He swears it is an error on their part, but I have the feeling he may have lied to me about his age.
Whose siblings do you see the most?
Mine. Because I am absurdly close to my family.
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Generally, when considering the entire breadth and width of our years together, money woes; but I will say that we have gotten much better at dealing with that stress over the years. A) Neither one of us (aside from the occasional splurge) is especially irresponsible when it comes to money, so it’s not like either of us can legitimately point any fingers when we come up short financially. B) I think we both finally figured out that we’re in this together and if one suffers the other does, as well and 3) I make a helluva lot more dough than I used to.
While it has not come up as often as money-woes, I think these days the more challenging situation is dealing with my tendency toward depression. In a nutshell, The Old Man doesn’t get it and so he doesn’t know how to deal with it. Since I don’t always understand it myself it is difficult for me to express it to him and I certainly have no quick fix (but can you imagine the money I could make if I came up with one?).
After the Halloween Incident, 2008, there was an obvious reason for my depression and the Old Man was therefore much more understanding and tolerant of it than he has been in the past. Being a man, though, if he can’t identify and quantify a problem and then fix it with tools and/or logic, he becomes overwhelmed. So then I have to deal not only with my depression, but with a man who has little patience for it.
Did you go to the same school?
Nope.
Are you from the same home town?
Not really. I was born in Appleton, Wisconsin and raised in a suburb of Los Angeles. The Old Man was born and raised in a suburb of LA, but one which is about fifteen - twenty miles away from mine.
Who is smarter?
One of the main things I love about our relationship is that we are each smart, but in very different ways. The Old Man has an engineer’s mind; a mechanic’s mind. He can fix things easily and can explain why planes don’t fall out of the sky and why bullets in that small gun over there will actually do more damage to the human body than bullets from that huge gun over there. He can dismantle your computer and put it back together again. I have little doubt that, if the opportunity arose, he would be able to break out of prison using only two sheets of notebook paper and a ball point pen.
I can tell you how to correctly spell large words.
I can also tell you exactly how the Gunfight went down at the OK Corral. I have yet to determine just why that is useful in life, but I feel certain that it will come in handy some day.
Who is the most sensitive?
Um...That would be me. I go nowhere without a box of tissues.
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Wow. We eat out like twice each week (one night and usually on Sunday mornings) and we have a lot of favorites. I will say, though, that since we moved to the OC we haven’t really found “favorite” places in town. There were lots of places in Long Beach: Utopia, La Creperie, Azteca (yummy Chicken Machaca and Eggs!)…
For special occasions (or when we are in the neighborhood for some reason), we like to go to Gladstones 4 Fish in Malibu.
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
New Mexico. All of the far-away places I have been have been sans Old Man.
Who has the craziest exes?
Definitely The Old Man, but really that’s only because I don’t really have any exes. Not in any real sense of that word. My twenties were spent sifting through a series of idiots, alcoholics, numb-nuts, low-lifes and drummers (I know – that’s redundant) who were really just a way of passing time. I called myself “The Three-Month Queen”. Those were not really relationships, per se.
Conversely, I can not believe The Old Man was ever married to the mother of his children. And the fact that he then ended up with me is disturbing. You know, I try to tell myself it’s because he learned his lesson and knew, after his divorce, exactly what he did not want in a woman and so found me. But still…
Who has the worst temper?
I tend to blow more often (I blame the red hair); but when he blows, man he really blows. And you don’t want to be anywhere within a three mile radius.
Who does the cooking?
I do. Aside from warming up some chicken broth for me after The Halloween Incident, 2008, The Old Man has never made a meal for me (a fact about which I reminded him last night, after he made himself a most delicious-looking grilled chicken breast and swiss cheese sandwich on grilled sourdough).
I enjoy cooking for us, but I am not all that great at it. I constantly look for new recipes (I have to use recipes) and solicit feedback, but the frustrating thing is that I never get much feedback, regardless. It is infuriating cooking for somebody who never tells you what he likes and doesn’t like and gives you the same, patented, “uh-huh” every time you ask if he likes what you have made.
Who is the neat-freak?
I used to be a neat freak. Now I just don’t have the energy to care that much. I like things to be clean. Things can be messy or a tad cluttered (I won’t throw a hissy fit if you leave your jeans laying across the chair in the bedroom), but they must be clean. In fact, I am a tad germophobic. The Old Man, however, has little tolerance for mess, but I wouldn’t sit on his toilet right now if you told me that every drop of my pee which hits the bowl would turn to gold.
And yes, we use separate toilets. See definition of germophobe.
Who is more stubborn?
Um...that is quite a contest, I assure you. And I stubbornly refuse to admit that I often win.
Who hogs the bed?
Definitely The Old Man. But, you know – he is 6’4” tall and I am a mere 5’1 ¾” (but I say I’m five-foot-two).
Who wakes up earlier?
We both wake up at the same time, but it takes me far longer to actually get moving.
Where was your first date?
We went to see Phenomenon starring John Travolta. Bad movie, but I still remember the feeling of The Old Man’s hand on my back as we walked to a restaurant for coffee afterward. I know that sounds like an overly-dramatic line from one of those stupid Twilight books, but it’s true.
Who is more jealous?
The Old Man. I don’t get jealous at all, but I sometimes pretend I do just to make him feel good.
How long did it take to get serious?
About thirty seconds.
Who eats more?
I eat more often throughout the day, but there is no way in hell I could eat as much at one time as he can. Again – he is 6’4” tall and I am a mere 5’1 ¾” (but I say I’m five-foot-two).
Who does the laundry?
Each of us does our own laundry. I know that’s weird, but A) I have a lot of delicates which I will not let him wash because I learned my lesson long ago when he tried to “help” me out and everything shrunk to half it’s size and B) He is extremely picky about how his undershirts get folded.
We usually wash our whites together (although he folds his and I mine) and whoever runs out of undies first is the one who throws them all in the washer.
Who's better with the computer?
That would be The Old Man. I don’t know and I don’t care to know. I just want to turn it on and have it do what I need it to do.
Who drives when you are together?
We are usually in my car and so I am usually the one driving because The Old Man hates my car. These days, The Old Man’s son is “borrowing” his car (although after a year I don’t really consider it “borrowing” anymore) and so The Old Man’s only transportation is his motorcycle.
However, do not think that the fact that it’s my car and he hates to drive it will keep The Old Man from lecturing me every single time we go somewhere about my supposed lack of driving skills. Actually, that should have been my answer to the question about difficult situations as a couple. We argue almost every time we get in the car. Because I am actually a great driver, but he refuses to admit that fact.
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