It isn’t the lack of love that ends a marriage, it’s socks on the floor.
Someone told me that today on my Facebook page and I just laughed and laughed.
Because it’s true.
To quote myself (Yeah, I’m quoting myself. DEAL WITH IT) over on my shiny new column on Babble Voices:
Say Serge cheated on me with another woman. What would have caused me more pain over the seven years of our marriage? The single incident of cheating or seven long years of not being able to sleep, of tossing and turning, of secretly wishing him dead? If you told me he’d stop snoring forever if he had sex with another woman I would be all for it. Yeah, sure, screw some hussy the one time and I’ll probably get over it. But snore like a chainsaw for another seven years and, buddy, we’re done. So yeah maybe it is the little things.
Over on He Said/She Said my husband and I are dishing about the little things. The stuff about each other that drives us absolutely insane. Come over and watch and then tell us what you think: are marriages more likely to end over that one catastrophic event or is it the little things that eventually cause the demise of a once loving union?
And hey, if you don’t feel like weighing in on that you can just vent about that annoying thing your spouse does that makes you want to pop out your eyeballs and stomp on then so you never, ever have to bear witness to the atrocity ever again.