Ten things women hate about men
An author tells you the top ten things that women hate about men
Be it a wet towel on the bed or making disparaging comments about your TV habits, your man knows very well how to get on your nerves, isn't it?
But you are not the only one, as there are some standard habits men have that annoy women to the core. Christina Hopkinson, author of the book 'The Pile Of Stuff At The Bottom Of The Stairs', tells you the top ten things that women hate about men, reports the Daily Mail.
Disparaging comments about our TV habits
OK, so nobody ever claimed that the Sky Living channel was great art, but is a televisual diet of America's Next Top Model and repeats of Grey's Anatomy really so much worse than watching endless sports programmes?
Yes, it's true that all reality talent shows are almost identical but it could also be argued that a nil-all result in the Premiership doesn't exactly rival Shakespeare for drama.
Women believe that the size of your TV is in inverse proportion to the size of your brain, while their men seem to think that some other screen-size/body part correlation is going on and so opt for the full-on Odeon surround-sound experience.
The surprisingly wiry 'wireless' home
One mobile phone, one charger--it's all you need. But no, he has wires crawling round the house like vines. Then are the drawers full of old cables that look like nests of vipers. Some of them are for his first Nokia, bought circa 1995.
These phone, camera and computer chargers have joined old keys as things we can no longer throw away for fear that the moment we do so, we'll discover a need to use them.
We all try to do our bit for the environment, but there seems to be some disagreement about what 'bits' to do. Yes, he's right that cut flowers flown from Kenya are an eco-disgrace--but they are rather lovely.
And yes, clothes can be air-dried, but it's just so much more convenient -- and they feel nicer -- if you use the tumble dryer.
Leaving pans 'to soak'
Washing up means doing everything �including saucepans. But he always leaves them on the side, or marginally better, he puts some tepid water in them 'to soak', thus divesting him of all responsibility of actually dealing with the burnt-on food that's clinging to them like Araldite.
Guests coo over his fancy ways with a flavored oil, but the boring rehashing, reheating and pureeing always gets left to me.
Stacks of coins everywhere
There's a stack of money on the chest of drawers and a hillock of tuppenny bits next to the unpaid bills on the sideboard. We know it's because you need to empty your pockets of it since you don't carry a purse, but perhaps it's time to tidy up and get a man-bag.
Saying we've run out of something after it's actually run out
"We're out of cornflakes/sugar/bread" said in an offensively accusatory way, as he empties the last of it onto his plate. Always with the subtitle running below it of: 'Can you go out and buy it, I'm far too busy.' This is closely allied to the habit of putting empty food receptacles back into the cupboard or fridge, especially milk bottles.
Doesn't he ever realise that if he stood on the mat after a shower then the bathroom floor wouldn't be permanently pockmarked with puddles?
One of the undoubted advances of the modern world is that fathers are much more hands-on with their children. Sadly, he hasn't realised that looking after children is not just parks, pools and zoos -- it's also wiping, washing and cleaning. You can't just pick off the best stuff, leaving us to do the grunge.
Doesn't he ever realise that if he stood on the mat after a shower then the bathroom floor would not be permanently pockmarked with puddles? But then these provide useful watering holes for the towels to marinate in when he doesn't hang them back on the rail. Actually that's not fair, he doesn't always leave the towels on the floor, sometimes he leaves them on the bed. Or, after swimming, to mould and fester in the plastic bag that he's used to carry his kit in.
The pile of stuff at the bottom of the stairs
Even those who live in flats without stairs seem to have a problem with these piles. Those shoes, books and clothes, those empty wine glasses and old magazines, those toys and towels -- they're not there for decorative reasons. It's like a conveyor belt for possessions, you see, except that like with all his irritating habits, there's always someone else to sort out the pile for him.
A walk through Mohammed Ali Road's Khau Galli