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!
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!?!?
- 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?
Loving this blog? Please help me build my audience and share with like minded people who, like you, sometimes feel the need to kill their husband and love Turkey. You can also subscribe or like me on Facebook for all updates.