We all know, by now, about The List, right?
When I first conceived of The List, it was to give you a quick-reference—somewhere to check on a bored Wednesday afternoon (instead of working, obviously) to see that your relationship is comparatively normal and confirm that you are not, in fact, over-reacting.
Because you have not yet thrown a pot at anyone’s head.
But, while I gave lip service to the idea of The List as a living document it was, in my mind, a done deal. I figured I would maybe remember some things as they came up again, but no new fight could compare to How To Light A Christmas Tree or The Avocados… at least, not without one of us collecting on that life insurance policy.
Until now. I present to you: Face Wipes.*
HIM: I need you to not flush your face wipes anymore—they’re clogging the toilet.
ME: What are y—
HIM: And they even say “Do not flush”
ME: No they don’t.
HIM: They do!
ME: Do not!
HIM: (grabs empty pack out of trash) Right there, see? (thrusts pack triumphantly)
ME: Let me see… (reads) Oh, pfft. That’s just so you can’t sue if you have shitty plumbing.
HIM: Which we—
ME: I’ve flushed billions of these over the years and they’ve never—
HIM: Billions? You have not.
ME: Have so!
HIM: If you’ve used even one billion of those wipes in the five years we’ve owned this house, I’ll… I’ll give you a blow job right now.
ME: BRING IT ON, THEN.
HIM: You’ve maybe used hundreds—
ME: Nope, billions.
HIM: Okay, even on a logarithmic scale, I was closer.
HIM: I can prove it: how much do those cost.
ME: (nervous) Oh, now you’re gonna get mad…
HIM: How much?
ME: Like five bucks a pack.
HIM: And how many are in there?
ME: (looks) 25.
HIM: (quickly blurts out bullshit math) … So you’re telling me that we’ve spent a third of my salary on face wipes?
ME: GEL EYELINER DOESN’T COME OFF WITH SPIT!
HIM: IT DOESN’T COME OFF AT ALL, APPARENTLY!
ME: It does, you just have to use these and also my—
HIM: I could clean concrete with a billion of those! Hand me a billion, I’ll go wipe away our driveway!
ME: Fine! (hands pack)
ME: Wait! (fetches back-up pack from bathroom, hands those over as well)
HIM: I’m not going to—
ME: That’ll at least get you started.
HIM: I don’t even know why you’re trying to argue this point—
ME: (stomps foot) BECAUSE I WAS PROMISED A BLOWJOB!
Take a moment to really absorb all of that, because just ahead is the moment in which you will realize that all of your arguments with your significant other were complete bullshit—you’re playing t-ball to our rugby, and I can prove it.
I was getting ready for bed when all that went down. Which means that all that shouting and flinging and stomping around? I was buck-nekkid for it.
Because I’m a goddamned professional.
* Makeup-wearers, you know the ones—I’ve been using the Simple ones lately, but everyone’s got their brand (highly recommend Philosophy, but most stores only stock like three packs at a time and then they’re sold out when you need them. Plus, they dry out quick, which is less than ideal. And not technically the point.) For those who are not familiar, it’s like a wetnap for your face, only without the alcohol burn and in a much bigger pack and… you know what? It’s basically nothing like that. Forget I said that. Just google it, ffs.