ridiculous topics for marital rows

[whendotheyleavehome]

OK, so I caught myself getting cross at hubby when on family holiday for having fruit and fibre for breakfast as he was 'obviously' trying to engineer more 'me time' on the loo away from the kids.

Please, please tell me I'm not the only one to have picked THE most ludicrous fight? Other examples please....or am I a lone witch?...

I always pick a fight about chopping board crumbs not being swept up and a little pile being left on the floor...

Oh, thought of our most common one... Dp misuses the word stipulated all the time.
He says something, I disagree or express an opinion and he says 'I was only stipulating' when he just isn't
Would be fine if he was, but he never is!

express himself when cooking

This is a man-thing, isn't it? DH and I haven't actually rowed over his need for culinary self-expression but several times I have expressed my wish for him to stop fantasising about being Heston Blumenthal.

In fact, he's been tediously insisting that 'cooking is like chemistry' since I met him, so when Heston became famous, I hated him because DH felt vindicated.

I don't mind Heston now. It's not his fault DH is a mad scientist in the kitchen. I even tried one of his recipes for Waitrose and it's really good, though it's not much of a recipe, more a method of doing steak, with no liquid nitrogen in sight.

So Heston can cook. DH can't, except for a a limited repertoire - a full English breakfast. I concede he's much better at that than me, though he has a tantrum if he breaks the egg yolks - a Thai chicken and basil stir fry and huevos rancheros though I'm not showing him this recipe because I think the addition of courgette is wrong but he might agree and start doing it.

Anyway, that's the crux. Whenever he cooks he's always putting odd ingredients in or increasing the proportions of existing ingredients.

The chicken and basil stir fry has been like chicken in Dead Sea Sauce because he's thought: 'why put one tbsp of nam pla in when three would do?'.

His poor brother choked over the amount of cumin and chilli in one of DH's early specialities - a spicy bacon risotto. DH still sneers about it and points out that I could eat it. Yes, but I'd built up a tolerance like Keith Richard's former tolerance to industrial quantities of heroin.

The last time we had words was over huevos rancheros which I love for Sunday breakfast.

He put cinnamon in it. I didn't see him do it but I could taste it. I said nothing because I'm a nice wife who didn't want to burst his bubble. It was edible but it was really quite unpleasant. The next Sunday he said, all excited: 'Ooh! Shall I make you my special rancher's eggs?'

I said: 'Yes, Ugly (for that is his name). Did you put cinnamon in it last week?'

'Yes, I did,' he beamed. 'You noticed!'

'Yeah. I did. Don't.'

Sometimes you don't need to have a big row. But you do need to be able to ignore the jutty-out lower lip.

Sorry for the self-indulgence of that marathon post. But Sunday morning breakfast means a lot to me

I have it on good authority that Ikea harvests the bad energy from arguing couples and uses it to run their flat pack factories.

We mainly argue at IKEA, but we've rowed at LEGOLAND and Alton Towers because he wasn't having enough 'fun' according to me (in the latter two places, not IKEA - although he looked pretty miserable when I walked him past the storage dept for the 10th time).

KittensoftPuppydog Yes! I knew it!

The worst argument we had was about whether or not McDonald's used to sell still Fanta. It went on for hours.

I was right. They did. I still gloat.

Sky+ boxes automatically start deleting things when they get below 12% - Spent a few days on holiday worrying that stuff would not get stored..... Life is too short!

I would love a good row - DH won't and it makes me even madder!

On holiday in Cyprus late at night, I was pushing my 3 year old son's buggy. I told DH we should go back to the hotel as son was very tired, so was I and it was a long walk. DH said had to go to toilet via a noisy bar and I insisted he did a wee behind a bush to save time. He refused, I stormed off with son and buggy and ended up walking down a pitch black dust track not having a clue where I was and realising I didn't have the room key. DH found us luckily.

I've nearly had a row with DP about whether rowing about little things is a symptom of underlying bigger problems in a relationship (lack of communication, ineffective communication, being selfish and inconsiderate etc). I said that rows of little things can touch on or blow up due to other issues, but DP says that sometimes people just have rows about silly things because they're frustrated. I said he was proving my point because people get frustrated when they don't communicate well or at all, but apparently I'm still wrong.

DP is very contrary though. He will start a sentence with 'No, because' and end up agreeing with me.

@limitedperiodonly Cooking is not 'like' chemistry. It IS chemistry. Tell him that next time he starts smugging about Heston Blumenthal.

I'm sat in a train reading this. An elderly couple just got on the train from the airport. He put the suitcases in the suitcase rack. She grumbled that someone might steal them. He said " I'm sitting fucking right here. Whoever takes them will get nothing more than dirty underware"
She is now sitting in a hump. He is trying to make up.

Is it bad that I can't actually even remember the cause of our worst row? It was only 2 months ago, I sobbed for hours and slept in the spare bed. And I can't even remember why

Worst one ever was over where in the world it would be best to live in the event of the apocalypse. It started off with a rational discussion of the richness of alluvial soils, population movement and climate change. An hour later I called him an arrogant, know-it-all effing bastard and he said I hadn't ever understood him. Never, ever drink Lao rice wine if you want a healthy relationship.

so he goes on a diet then (usually the same day) eats a three egg sandwich with cheese and sauce and tells me its okay because he is not going to overeat the rest of the day so he frys himself something for lunch telling me he will have something healthy for tea i cook tea and he moans its not healthy/filling enough stuffs himself with crisps and chocolate and blames me for it telling me i shouldn't buy them! he said this in front of his mom and she went on the attack i snapped snarled we have plenty of fruit he is eating the CHILDREN'S SNACKS i DID NOT buy them for HIM!! she then tried saying i shouldn't buy the crisps for the children i pointed out they were a, for a day trip this weekend b, he has now eaten them all (12 packets) c, one of the children is underweight the other is average d, he is supposed to be on a fucking diet and should keep his fingers out of his mouth

they both still think im wrong

Some of these are genius! And I thought I was unreasonable! One that springs to mind my DH started was when we were making flat pack furniture he accused me of stealing 'his' screws (we were doing half each). After much shouting he found them underneath the hole they'd rolled into

I regularly have a go at him about weird things usually me saying "I put that there for a reason" when I put a random object somewhere prominent so I remember it. He totally cops it when I forget the object!

Yes to Ikea.
Yes to Sky+ Box
and Yes to 'leaving things to soak'

One of our worst ever rows was when we were driving to Spain and DH had, against my better judgement, picked a route that took us via the outskirts of Paris, insisting that it would be quicker to go 'as the crow flies' regardless of the fact that it meant we would be hitting aforementioned city in rush hour. No satnav, just a printed route map from the AA website and an A-Z of Europe. I was navigating and had not given one wrong direction thus far. And then we arrived at the Paris bit. And the four lane carriageway that we were on was blocked off at the exit we needed to take.

Cue DH SCREAMING 'Which way? WHICH WAY NOW?' and me frantically trying to gauge where we were on the 5mm blue line that represented the road we were on as he continued to yell "IS IT THIS EXIT????" "LEFT OR RIGHT? I NEED TO KNOW NOW".

I then start yelling back "I don't fucking know, you tell me Mr fucking satnav. If you weren't such a jerky driver I might be able to read the map etc"

He then starts yelling about driving being harder than navigating, which I refute because his job was mindless instruction following whilst I had to keep track of where we were the whole time. And still we are following a road that is taking off us off piste.

Then ten minutes of "WELL IS IT THIS FUCKING TURNING OR NOT? FIND AN ALTERNATIVE ROUTE SNOT. FIND AN ALTERNATIVE ROUTE'

At which point I gave up, threw the map into the footwell and said dramatically "Never via Paris. I warned you, NEVER VIA PARIS'

and refused to help until we hit the South of France at which point I took up navigating but refused to speak of anything other than directions until we were midway through Spain.

"Never Via Paris" has since become a Euphemism for any kind of "I told you so"/"This will not end well" point that needs making.

Most ridiculous argument ever was when he insisted that when we met I had believed Unicorns were real. I had not. The row descended into accusations about who had literary superiority - because clearly who ever had read the most books would be the least likely to believe that Unicorns were real .

these are great - I love the one early on about someone not speaking to their partner for days because he was mean to them in a dream

I am also very glad we have never been to IKEA!

Hahaha Snotandbothered we have had that row twice - once in Lyon where I made him stop so I could get out of the car and not be near him for five minutes, and another in Antwerp. The latter scarred me so much I can't bring myself to drive anywhere near it, which is a bit of a problem because it's on the way to our mate's place in the Hague

Babacoon

I luffs this thread. I am not bonkers. Or maybe I am, but in good, populous company.

I split up with first exH over potatoes. I can't remember exactly what aspect of potatoes. But it was definitely potatoes...

I have to say, this thread is reassuring me that me and DH are normal.

A favourite one of my parents is whether my dad enjoys a roast dinne. My mum insists that he doesn't ("I can tell by your face when I say I'm cooking one") and my dad ("but I always eat it..."). They have been having this conversation for my entire lifetime, yet she continues cooking them and continues eating them

• HE continues eating them!

Pronunciation mostly, the most spectacular ones being "molasses", "goujon" and "Nene". The last one will be familiar to anyone living on the Peterborough/Northamptonshire borders.

Oh, and a massive two way rant about what technical rock climbing grade is closest to childbirth. The midwives were . We settled on 4c.

Dh and I once had a stupendous row about the lyrics to Oliver's Army! This was in the days before google so we just kept rewinding to the relevant section, playing it and scream