Toenails, Pubes in the Soap, and How to Handle Your Filthy Boyfriend.

Men are, by nature, incredibly lazy beings.  So to say that you're in a relationship with a "lazy man" simply means that he must be really, really fucking lazy.

I was once in a relationship with a "lazy man."

Matthew and I lived in a beautiful apartment together that he insisted on trashing.  He left his dishes piling up on the counter, his socks on the floor, and toothpaste in the sink.  I tried every possible approach to get him to pull his weight:

"Matthew, if you do the dishes, I'll wash the floor."

"Matthew, if you walk the dog, I'll cook your favorite dinner tonight."

"Matthew, if you dust in the living room, I'll let you go up my ass."

Nothing worked.  And then one day, things hit a breaking point.

I woke up from a blissful night of sleep and slowly rolled over in bed, rubbing my eyes.  I was immediately confronted by the longest toenail clipping I had ever seen.  I knew for damn certain it wasn't mine.  It was big and brown and had Matthew's name written all over it.

"MATTHEW????  Why is one of your toenail clippings in our bed???"

"I'm soooo, so, so sorry baby.  I clipped my toenails in bed while you were still sleeping."  Precious.  "I think one got in your hair, too.  So you might want to check."

After fishing my boyfriend's toenail chunk out of my hair, I walked into the bathroom.  While I was washing my hands, I noticed what looked like little ants taking over the counter and sink.  "Damnit, Matthew.  If you hid your Taco Bell in the bathroom again instead of throwing it out..." I thought.

But upon closer inspection, I realized that they weren't ants at all.  They were hairs.  Tiny, black hairs.  "MATTHEW!" I screamed.  "Why is our bathroom counter sprouting hairs???"

"I'm sooooo, so, so sorry baby.  I cut my ear hairs this morning."  Did I hear him correctly?  "And I borrowed you trimmer too."

I cleaned his hairs out of the sink and turned on the shower.  I was going to get at least ten minutes of uninterrupted alone time without Matthew's ear hairs and toenail clippings.  I was determined.

So I stepped into the shower and grabbed the bar of soap.  MY bar of soap.  I knew better at this point than to share one with my inadequate boyfriend, so we each had our own.

I was busying cleansing and caressing every inch of my smooth and flawless body.  I ran it up and down my toned legs and gently glided it over my perfect, flat stomach.  I closed my eyes, brought it up to my face, and breathed in the heavenly aroma, soaping off my forehead and cheeks.

And when I opened my eyes, I saw the biggest, blackest pube I have EVER seen stuck in the bar of soap.

Fucking MY fucking bar of fucking soap.

That was it.  The gloves were off.

I didn't even say anything to Matthew, but he was about to get a dose of his own medicine.

The next morning, Matthew rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom, per usual.  An audible "UGH!" immediately came after.

"Cori?"

"Yes Matthew."

"Why is there a dirty pad stuck to the mirror?"

"Oh my gosh, honey.  I guess I forgot to throw it away.  I'm soooo, so, so sorry!"  Of course, he left the dirty pad there, where it remains to this very day.

I heard the shower turn on and Matthew step inside.  I went about my business making the bed until I heard a shrieking scream come from the bathroom.

"Cori!"

"Yes Matthew."

"What the fuck is wrong with my razor??!?!!"

"Oh.  Nothing's wrong with it.  I just used it to shave my vagina.  It had been awhile.  Sorryyyy!"  Matthew opened the shower curtain to glare at me.  I simply shrugged my shoulders, giggled, and skipped out of the room.

Minutes later, he walked into the kitchen with a towel around his neck.  "You know, there's a reason we each have our own razor."

"I know, sweetheart.  It's just that I feel SO close to you...that I can't bare to use a different razor."  He rolled his eyes and opened the fridge.

"Do we have any yogurt left?"

"Of course, baby.  You know I'd never let you run out."  He pulled out a small container.

"This it?"

"Uh...yeah.  Pretty sure!"  Matthew washed off some strawberries and grapes, mixed them in with his yogurt, and sat at the table.

"What are your plans today?" he asked.

"I need to go to the pharmacy."

"Hm."  Matthew took a big bite of his yogurt and almost immediately spit it out.  "FUCK, man!  What the fuck is this shit?????"  I took a curious sniff and pretended I didn't know what was going on.

"Well I'll be!  There's my Vagisil!"

"What the fuck is your Vagisil doing in the refrigerator?!!?!?!"

"Well I don't know Matthew!  I guess that means your yogurt is under the sink in the bathroom..."  He looked at me unbelieving, probably unsure of whether he should laugh, cry, or kill me.

Moral of the story?  Clean up after yourselves, you fucking slobs. <3