Scene 1:

Him: I want a puppy! Please can I have a puppy.

Me: We simply do not have space for a dog. The apartment is too small. Especially since you insist on it being a German Shepherd.

Him: But I will walk it every day and train it really well. It will be no trouble, really!

Me: The answer is No!

Scene 2:

Me: Oh sweetie, look at you. You have stains all over your t-shirt. You can’t go out like that! Let’s find you something else to wear.

Him: But this is the cleanest thing I have.

Me: But what about all those t-shirts I bought you recently? What happened to them?

Him: They have stains too…

Scene 3:

Me: What happened to your hair?!!

Him: I cut it.

Me: ???!!!!

And no, I do not have any children. It is simply that living with a man is a lot like having a kid. I just cannot understand how it is possible for him to get so many stains on his clothing. I am not too careful about how I dress, preferring to spend my time and effort on books, but my boyfriend often reminds me of a homeless person. And I do not want to admit to being embarrassed, but I cannot help it. I can even accept the wrinkles that cover his clothes, like the skin of a Shar pei, but the stains and tears are just too much!

And the business about the dog… We live in a 60 m² apartment. The apartment I bought during our half year break-up, and which I love almost as much as my books. How can I possibly accept that a large drooling, smelling, overly-affectionate canine comes break the peace of this sanctuary? He himself does quite enough with his simple presence. Gone are the peacefully silent moments spent by myself. Now computer games and endless cooking shows provide the soundtrack to my life. No longer does my towel hang alone on the heated towel rack in the bathroom, beautifully folded and tidy. Now his towel is thrown on there in a rumpled sloppy heap (which, come to think of it, looks a lot like him).

I have no words for the hair-cut…