10 Things I Hate About The Turk

Those of you who follow my blog will know that The Turk has been in Australia for a little over 3 months now.  His original plan of holidays and fun times down in Oz turned into a medical emergency and him being stuck in Australia until the Cardiologist gave him the all clear which, fortunately or unfortunately depending how you look at things, he got last Monday.  This means … yikes … he’s coming back in a few days!

kemal collage

I have enjoyed my single life immensely over the past few months.  I have enjoyed not sharing my bed (and the earth trembling snoring).  I have enjoyed ignoring the housework (as a good Turkish housewife should).  I have enjoyed my nights out without him and I have enjoyed my nights in without him.

I now realise that I will not only have to return to a life shared with him I also get to experience his crazy ass, typically Turkish, male antics again and so, in celebration of The Turk’s forthcoming return, I give you  – 10 things I hate about The Turk:

  • His Big Fat Turkish Ego! I think this one covers everything else on the list but his ego is the largest thing about him *nudge, nudge*.  He knows everything.  He can do anything.  He spends more time in front of the mirror than I ever have and he is the total male package.  I am sooo lucky.  He tells me so every, single day!
  • His Turkish Compass. Being Turkish and a male (or maybe just male) he will never get lost.  It is unheard of.  Impossible!  Rubbish!  And yet despite this unique ability that is akin to a superpower he can never find his kimlik.  Or his mobile.  Or his bloody wallet.  He is like a Tyrannosaurus Rex – can’t see the shit right in front of him!
  • His love of stomach turning Turkish food. Ick!  Eep!  Yikes!  With The Turk returning he will bring with him the insane need to cook sheep’s head or brain or liver or kidney or tripe.  I just vomited into my mouth.
  • His ability to act like a four year old boy. Like all Turkish men when it comes to a confrontation with their wife, The Turk will run away with his tail between his legs. He will disappear for hours on end and turn his telephone off.  All this achieves is that I want to inflict permanent damage on his measly ass!  I blame his mother.
  • His coping mechanism. Due to his recent illness I will probably let this one go but it is still worth a mention.  When The Turk comes down with man-flu his ability to operate heavy machinery or even the television remote becomes non-existent.  The world, quite rightfully, comes to an end.  Full body aching or even a simple sniffle means that he has been struck down with nothing short of Ebola.  During this period of marriage I can usually be found yelling, “Just die already” but I guess I shouldn’t do that one anymore.  I am going to need a new catch phrase.
  • His penis. The Turk loves his ding-a-ling and re-arranges said ding-a-ling at least 500 times an hour. Just leave it alone for Christ’s sake. You don’t see me touching my boobs every few seconds.
  • His penis – take two! The Turk always has sex on his mind.  All the time.  He is so freakishly obsessed with it. Will he never get bored of being horny? And why is everything related to sex?!?!  When he rang to tell me he could fly his actual words were, “The doctor said I can have sex again … oh and I can fly home as well”.  *Sigh*
  • His ability to lie. To my face.  He does it all the time.  “Darling you sing like Madonna”.  “Darling no that does not make you look enormous” or what about the “I’ll be home in 5 minutes”.  The last one is the worst.  A Turkish 5 minutes could be 5 hours, hell it could be 5 days!  Shit just ain’t true!
  • His ability to help … others. It does not matter what needs to be done The Turk is there for you.  Your neighbour’s cousin’s, aunt is moving home?  Of course The Turk will singlehandedly carry her ugly Turkish furniture down 4 flights of stairs!  A problem with your toilet?  Bob the Builder ain’t got nothing on The Turk.  A nuclear reactor in meltdown?  The Turk is all over it but God forbid if I need a light bulb changed in the stairwell!  He is AWOL.  It’s never going to happen.
  • Not only he is always right – did I mention at any stage that he is a genius – his family is also always right. His brother is always right (did you see how I highlighted that?  Can you feel the tension?).  His sister is always right.  Everyone is always right except for me.  Even if I had made the suggestion two minutes earlier it is not right unless it has been said by a family member.  Aarrghhhh!?!?

Bonus reason:

  • The inevitable reverse culture shock that will hit The Turk as soon as he sets down his suitcase. I lived through it last year, hell I blogged through it last year! He will be grumpy.  He will no doubt sulk.  He will yell it to the world, “Coming back here was a huge mistake and we should move back to Oz as soon as possible”.  This line of behaviour will carry on for a few weeks until, like a puppy, he settles into his new home albeit with a few pee puddles along the way.

He does have his good points too you know.  I don’t know what they are right now but I am sure they will come clear once he has returned home – and tidied the house.

On reflection I realise that my “10 things” would not be limited to my Turk or to Turkish men in general but wow(!) I feel like a huge weight has just been lifted off my shoulder!  Now it’s your turn.  Spill the beans people, it’s cathartic.  What annoys you about your lesser half?

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35 thoughts on “10 Things I Hate About The Turk

  1. Janey, I swear if I didn’t know better I’d believe you’re married to my ex Turkish husband! Maybe they’re twins, separated at birth? Uncanny!!!

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  2. I have always thought the Turkish and the Irish are very alike, now I know it is true. The Irish man has another fault though, alcohol. mainly Guinness which causes a human compost in the gut. The smell is unbearable. I have a guinness room in my house where my lesser half is banished to sleep in at the weekend to brew his compost heap.

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    • Firstly – ewwww!!! – although The Turk is a raving alcoholic when he wants to be. I am hopeful, of course, that his doctor gave him a lecture and the drinking and more importantly the smoking, is limited if not banished from his life!

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  3. From my experience, I couldn’t add a possible word, you’ve got it covered! Your above description qualifies for a dictionary entry for the definition of a “Turk”. I bet you missed him really though 🙂

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  4. I felt myself nodding in agreement. I’m hoping that my half Turkish son won’t be the same..mind you I think he does more around the house at the age of 2 then his dad. But alas does follow in his father’s footsteps when it comes to the food he consumes, I certainly didn’t like changing his dirty nappies – my hubby always had to go and ‘help’ someone when a dirty bum needed changing!!!

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  5. Wow, no wonder you feel better getting this off your chest! Makes me realise how l lucky I am, Hubby helps with the house, cooking, is there for anyone (unless they abuse the privilege then you can hear the NO for miles), looks after me, the dog and spoils us both rotten (though he’s not happy about cleaning up after the dog and does it with marigolds, wellies and a mask 🙂 ) If anything, maybe too much and he’s a bit of a fusser. But I love him to bits.

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  6. Nothing annoys me about my ex… I got rid of him! <<<<That sounded like it should have involved black plastic bags and a shovel, lol… Why didn't I think of that back then???! He was (is) African… pretty much the same with the awful food choices… and the ego… and everything… His family are not bad though (ish)! Thank you for that though, you've cheered me right up… As soon as I saw the words "the Turk" I thought, THERE SHE IS… I'd lost track of your blog… I hope you are keeping well and your roof is holding up, lol- now get back to that sink and clean up for hubby coming home- none of this blogging malarkey for you!

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  7. . . jeez! it’s like some bloody knitting circle around the guillotine – a bunch of cackling crones drooling as us guys are trundled along on the tumbril to the Place de la Execution (this blog)! You know you can’t do without us . . I could have phrased that better . . and I know you could but it’s not the same thing. So, watch it – us blokesare getting together and we’ll do the Lysistra thing and then where will you be/

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  8. I’m happy to know it’s not just me that has done a top ten list of why my “significant” other is annoying.!! Whew….what a relief. I think we are dating the same man.! Except mine isn’t Turkish…but his most annoying quality is everything has to be on his timetable.! When he wants to do….pretty much anything. If he agrees to something I want to do….I naturally become suspicious.! Geeze…!!

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  9. Well we’re both English in our household but we’ve got lots of friends with Turkish husbands / wives / boyfriends / girlfriends and this has just made me laugh, a lot! 🙂 Similar rantings heard from all those people. 🙂
    Julia

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  10. Oh Jane this made me laugh so much! One of the best posts I have read! 😂😂😂. I don’t have a lesser half so don’t have any stories to tell. I have had some interesting neighbours though ……. But that’s another story! 😊

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  11. Not having a better or worse half I have enjoyed immensely your 10 reasons and I have just one question – does the Turk read your blog? Ever? Thanks for putting a smile on my face 🙂

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  12. I love it Jane. All so true!!! After one month with my latest ”real Turk” who is currently in OZ doing god knows what, I decided that I didn’t need the insanity and chaos in my life. Perfectly captured. Why are they all so erratic, impulsive, know everything, and can be relied on for nothing (except for crisies which they usually have creadted in the first instance!

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  15. Just asking, but are you by any chance married to someone called Robin? (And he’s not even Turkish). Did you miss one out – the ‘open the fridge door and announce that we clearly have no yoghurt/butter/milk/fill-in-the-gap, even though there is a huge supply of said foodstuff right in front of their nose’ scenario?

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