Man Of The Year

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The year he lived here was the worst year of my life. You would think it would have been bliss. We were crazy in love and could barely keep our hands off each other. How quickly that all died when we inhabited the same space for more than a couple of passion filled hours.

He was a slob. There is no other way to describe him. He always left the lid off the toothpaste tube after he had been using it. In fact, he tended to leave the lids off anything that he used. Clearly, he and lids did not get along. His clothes lived in piles scattered throughout the house. When I asked him to put them away, they ended up in a single pile in the wardrobe. I gave him some hangers but to no avail. I think he gave them to his maiden aunts for Christmas.

Going into the bathroom after he had showered was a risky business. How one man could get so much water on the floor was beyond me. Many a time I slid across the floor, grabbing wildly at towel racks and cupboards to steady myself as I water skied past.

And the kitchen! He could not even make a sandwich without using a plethora of plates, bowls and cutlery, each item of which remained where he had last used it. I banned him from the kitchen, even though it meant that I had to prepare all our food.

In the end, it was simpler to ban him from my life.