Strictly - Another night ruined

SWMBO - Do you want to come around for Sunday dinner, be about 6.30pm, I'm putting on a chicken roast.
Me - Oooooh that would be lovely, I'll see you then.

1830 hrs

Me - Oooh that looks lovely, I'll plate up and do the gravy. (Cue lots of kitchen banter and hugs)
SWMBO - Lovely, I'll just put Strictly Catch Up on, there's a lovely dress I want you to see and there's some lovely dancing with the blokes in WW I uniforms.
Me - No thanks
SWMBO - But you'll love it
Me - No really, I'd rather not
But it's a really lovely dress
No really, I don't want to watch it, I told you this last time I'd rather put hot needles in my eyes
But it's the catch up from last night
So record it
But it's on now
So record it (getting really p*ssed off now)
etc, etc.

10 mins later the food is sticking in my throat, you can cut the atmosphere with a knife and apart from the Strictly sh*te on the screen you can hear a pin drop.

End of the program 30 minutes later I'm sat skimming through the phone looking at various news outlets. Nothing has been said since the food was put on the table.
SWMBO gets up, clears the plates, potters around in the kitchen saying nothing with the atmosphere temperature at −273.15 degrees then announces she's going to bed.

Cue 10 minute argument where I'm made to feel a **** and she's giving out the passive aggressive cold burn treatment. Major strop on my part and back to base in a foul mood with no doubt a week of the silent treatment on the cards.

I understand that my partner is an ex-dancer and she totally loves everything about this programme but I cannot stand it, in fact I can't even begin to describe how much this sh*t gets on my tits.

My tolerance levels for a lot of things in our relationship (and to be perfectly honest life in general) has gone through the floor recently, so much so that I'm really starting to wonder if it's worth carrying on. I've been suffering from a lot of mood swings recently and it seems everytime we have a good moment it's ruined shortly afterwards by a kick off (invariable down to a misunderstanding, an argument over her stroppy daughter / overbearing sister or an imagined slight). I just don't seem to be able to find a happy medium and get back to the way our relationship used to be when I really couldn't give a **** about what she watched as long as she didn't watch it whilst I was there.
 
Last edited:

kimmi851

War Hero
The only time I invite a bloke to watch a programme about dancing/ice skating it is because I am 99% sure he is gay and using me as cover and it is a discrete confirmation technique. Just saying.
 

theoriginalphantom

MIA
Book Reviewer
Mrs Phantom is a dance teacher, and used to compete, her little brother was part of the British dance team.
Her mother also teaches dance.
We have ******* boxes full of bastard dance medals, cups and trophies.

We don't watch it
 

Auld-Yin

ADC
Kit Reviewer
Book Reviewer
Reviews Editor
SWIMBO - Do you want to come around for Sunday dinner, be about 6.30pm, I'm putting on a chicken roast.
Me - Oooooh that would be lovely, I'll see you then.

1830 hrs

Me - Oooh that looks lovely, I'll plate up and do the gravy. (Cue lots of kitchen banter and hugs)
SWIMBO - Lovely, I'll just put Strictly Catch Up on, there's a lovely dress I want you to see and there's some lovely dancing with the blokes in WW I uniforms.
Me - No thanks
SWIMBO - But you'll love it
Me - No really, I'd rather not
But it's a really lovely dress
No really, I don't want to watch it, I told you this last time I'd rather put hot needles in my eyes
But it's the catch up from last night
So record it
But it's on now
So record it (getting really p*ssed off now)
etc, etc.

10 mins later the food is sticking in my throat, you can cut the atmosphere with a knife and apart from the Strictly sh*te on the screen you can hear a pin drop.

End of the program 30 minutes later I'm sat skimming through the phone looking at various news outlets. Nothing has been said since the food was put on the table.
SWIMBO gets up, clears the plates, potters around in the kitchen saying nothing with the atmosphere at −273.15 degrees then announces she's going to bed.

Cue 10 minute arguement where I'm made to feel a **** and she's giving out the passive aggressive cold burn treatment. Major strop on my part and back to base in a foul mood with no doubt a week of the silent treatment on the cards.

I understand that my partner is an ex-dancer and she totally loves everything about this programme but I cannot stand it, in fact I can't even begin to describe how much this sh*t gets on my tits.

My tolerance levels for a lot of things in our relationship (and to be perfectly honest life in general) has gone through the floor recently, so much so that I'm really starting to wonder if it's worth carrying on. I've been suffering from a lot of mood swings recently and it seems everytime we have a good moment it's ruined shortly afterwards by a kick off (invariable down to a misunderstanding, an arguement over her stroppy daughter / overbearing sister or an imagined slight). I just don't seem to be able to find a happy medium and get back to the way our relationship used to be when I really couldn't give a **** about what she watched as long as she didn't watch it whilst I was there.
Last paragraph, first and last sentence are your problem and solution. You'd be amazed at how easy tolerance can be if you give it a go.

Evidence for this may be found in several of my posts with (against) certain Arrsers! ;)
 

Awol

LE
I agree about the programme. It really makes me fear for the intellect of the nation that shít of this kind can be so popular.

I learned long ago that an indication of whether a programme will be absolutely unwatchable is if it has a shiny blue background, usually massive curtains. As a combat indicator it’s correct 100% of the time.

Some psychologist type has obviously decided that a blue background is the best way to enthral and relax the congenitally brain dead amongst us.
 

Blogg

LE
Some time ago we were invited for dinner by friends of Mrs B.

Who simply had to watch the final that was on and other guests duly sat down to watch this dross. WTF?

I wandered off with a drink and kept their dog company, which was by far the better option
 
Just to recap. OP was up for a night of red hot between the sheets action, and a free meal. Had to watch 30 minutes of shite on TV first. Throws a strop, and doesn't get the end away. Have I got that right?
 

theoriginalphantom

MIA
Book Reviewer
I have inadvertently learned far too much about dance, and I'm glad Mrs Phantom doesn't do the competitions any more, apparently referring to the regional finals as 'the ******* ego show' isn't polite.

Mini me Mk1 still does some lessons and Mk2 binned them a few years ago, any moment now he's going to get to the age when he realises that being surrounded by girls his own age and virtually no male competition is something he shouldn't be missing out on.

I have the joy of, once again, photographing everyone who did their exams as they get their medals and awards. It's a weekend of several hundred virtually identical photos. All to be edited, multiple prints to be done, and then distributed to ungrateful parents.

Oh Odin, I'd forgotten there is also the Christmas show to endure.
 

MrBane

LE
Moderator
Kit Reviewer
Reviews Editor
An important point worth highlighting here.

SWMBO is not WMBO if you're not living in the same house.

It is simply SWMBS - She Who Must Be Shagged.

On a side note, everyone argues, but if you don't like the daughter and the two of you can't reconcile a daft argument about what to watch on the telly - take the warning bells and ditch her. You'll feel the weight fall off your shoulders.

After all, you have us.
 
The first time I visited the future Mrs b's parents was over Xmas. I was entertained to a very nice Xmas dinner and future father-in-law and I seen off a few lots of bottles and cans of beers/lagers (various). Whilst I was enjoying this hospitality and was by then near-comatose, future mother-in-law asked if I wouldn't mind her watching some Xmas special on the telly as she and future Mrs b didn't want to miss it. Being on my best behaviour, I said it wasn't a problem only to be faced with the prospect of watching two feckn hours of feckn ballet dancing. Fortunately future F-i-L wasn't a ballet fan either and we escaped to future Brother-in-Law's nearby house to carry on with the post-Xmas dinner drinks. I did detect a certain coolness when we returned back several hours later. At least I was in future F-i-L's good books, less-so future M-i-L's.
 
SWMBO - Do you want to come around for Sunday dinner, be about 6.30pm, I'm putting on a chicken roast.
Me - Oooooh that would be lovely, I'll see you then.

1830 hrs

Me - Oooh that looks lovely, I'll plate up and do the gravy. (Cue lots of kitchen banter and hugs)
SWMBO - Lovely, I'll just put Strictly Catch Up on, there's a lovely dress I want you to see and there's some lovely dancing with the blokes in WW I uniforms.
Me - No thanks
SWMBO - But you'll love it
Me - No really, I'd rather not
But it's a really lovely dress
No really, I don't want to watch it, I told you this last time I'd rather put hot needles in my eyes
But it's the catch up from last night
So record it
But it's on now
So record it (getting really p*ssed off now)
etc, etc.

10 mins later the food is sticking in my throat, you can cut the atmosphere with a knife and apart from the Strictly sh*te on the screen you can hear a pin drop.

End of the program 30 minutes later I'm sat skimming through the phone looking at various news outlets. Nothing has been said since the food was put on the table.
SWMBO gets up, clears the plates, potters around in the kitchen saying nothing with the atmosphere temperature at −273.15 degrees then announces she's going to bed.

Cue 10 minute argument where I'm made to feel a **** and she's giving out the passive aggressive cold burn treatment. Major strop on my part and back to base in a foul mood with no doubt a week of the silent treatment on the cards.

I understand that my partner is an ex-dancer and she totally loves everything about this programme but I cannot stand it, in fact I can't even begin to describe how much this sh*t gets on my tits.

My tolerance levels for a lot of things in our relationship (and to be perfectly honest life in general) has gone through the floor recently, so much so that I'm really starting to wonder if it's worth carrying on. I've been suffering from a lot of mood swings recently and it seems everytime we have a good moment it's ruined shortly afterwards by a kick off (invariable down to a misunderstanding, an argument over her stroppy daughter / overbearing sister or an imagined slight). I just don't seem to be able to find a happy medium and get back to the way our relationship used to be when I really couldn't give a **** about what she watched as long as she didn't watch it whilst I was there.

It all comes down to life’s little pleasures
if you’re still both enjoying sex together, then there’s always going to obstacles insurmountable to endure
if you’re both not having sex then


then you may have to

 

longtimeout

War Hero
I have a solidly established rule with my other half;

If she chooses to watch reality/celebrity/sob story/musical number shite, then I'll wander off to another room and watch something I'm interested in.

I've almost finished youtube...
 

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