If this relationship is strong, you would be stupid to throw it away over unwashed plates. However, his big boo-hoo act does suggest that your lover may be more interested in having a mummy than a girlfriend. Be strong: you don’t want to still be staring at this turkey next Christmas.
Dear Graham,
My brother-in-law (60 and never married) recently went into hospital for an operation. During his weeks away from home, I went round daily to feed his cat at his request.
It was apparent that he does no housework. His home was verging on filthy, with heaps of old newspapers, cat hair glued to the carpet, surfaces littered with dirty plates and so on. I fought with my urge to sort the place out, feeling it wasn’t my job to interfere, so I only did the bare minimum.
When my brother-in-law came home, he made no reference to what I’d done and I wished I’d had a real blitz. Now he appears to have allowed the house to turn into a tip again. He seems cheerful enough and is due to go back for a second op, which means I’ll be doing cat duties.
How can I sensitively broach the subject of keeping the house cleaner? He is a stubborn yet kind man, very set in his ways.
Fran S, Wiltshire
Dear Fran,
Repeat after me – my house, his house. You seem to be confusing the two things. This man is 60 years old and you tell me that he seems perfectly happy. That is really all we need to know.
I understand that your desire to blitz his hovel is coming from a good place but it’s going to be very hard to get into full Marigold and Mr Muscle mode unless your brother-in-law actually asks for help. Depending on what sort of relationship you have, the only thing you might be able to do is to explain the situation honestly.
When he is in hospital next, explain that you know the house doesn’t bother him but it’s driving you crazy. Would he mind if you cleaned up? Reassure him that you won’t throw anything out – people have a strange attachment to canned goods long after they have expired. If he agrees, off you go in a smoke of Flash.
If he says no, then step away from the spray gun. As a man who lives alone, I fully appreciate the old expression that cleanliness is next to Godliness but it is also next to impossible. You are a very kind sister-in-law. Don’t spoil it by crossing a line of grime.
Dear Graham,
I feel really bad writing to you with this problem, especially after reading in Weekend about your labradoodle, Bailey. My gentleman friend has an old and malodorous spaniel called Lola. Blind and milky-eyed, she is on her last legs. My friend, who is in his seventies, has very little sense of smell so has little sympathy with my complaint. The stench is so vile that it doesn’t make a bit of difference if doors and windows are opened. Lola’s abominable pong clings to walls, curtains, hair and skin like an evil vine.
It’s got so bad that I won’t go to his house. It’s beastly of me, I know, and she’s a loyal, loving old dog, but I’ve reached breaking point. He’s going to have to choose between me and his hound.
Is it cruel and heartless to ask this of him?
Meredith T, East Surrey
“My new dog Madge is a small terrier but, on occasion, she emits a smell like low tide in an industrial town in Eastern Europe.”
Dear Meredith,
I used to do a joke in my stand-up routine where I said that children were a bit like farts in that people like their own. Clearly, this also applies to the farts of their children. My new dog Madge is a small terrier but, on occasion, she emits a smell like low tide in an industrial town in Eastern Europe. If someone else did this on a regular basis in my home they would be out faster than Paris Hilton, but, because Madge is my baby, all is forgiven.
You say that Lola is on her last legs, so my question is, do you really want to tear your partner’s heart in two when time will solve your problem ere long? The other risk you take if you ask him to choose is that Lola will end up waving a tired paw at the window as you drive away in a taxi like some soon-to-be-forgotten EastEnders character.
On a more positive note, perhaps Lola should visit the vet. He might be able to suggest something to improve the stench or even hint that it’s time for Lola to make her way to that big park in the sky. Please don’t think I’m dismissing the horror of your problem, but old, loving, loyal companions shouldn’t be discarded when they begin to stink. Today it’s Lola, tomorrow it could be you.
Dear Graham,
I am 26 and have just started seeing a fellow barrister in the chambers where I work. He’s a lovely, funny guy aged 33, totally genuine and very bright. My worry is that I’m not as experienced as he is. I’ve had boyfriends, but I’ve never actually gone to bed with anybody.
Somehow it never felt quite right, so I just kept the brakes on. Now I’ve met Dan I feel it would be the most natural thing in the world, but I’m embarrassed at my lack of experience. Should I tell him I’m a virgin?
Emma H, Lincolnshire
Dear Emma,
Usually I only feel old at 3am on a Saturday morning dancing to music I don’t know in a puddle of vodka, but reading your letter has made me feel older than Barry Norman’s teeth. Being a 26-year-old virgin is in no way a handicap. It is absolutely still a selling point. Wait until you’re 30, however, and the virgin tag will be as appealing as ‘ex-council’ in the property pages.
To be honest, I can imagine it freaking out Dan a little, so choose very carefully the moment to tell him. Don’t blurt it out over dinner or even in the taxi home. In fact, I’d wait until after he has removed your bra. By then he will be in full flow and will climb your virginity mountain with all the bravura of Noel Edmonds opening boxes.
When the deed is done, nestle in his arms and whisper: ‘Dan, you’re the man!’ The memory of this magical moment may cheer him when you dump him, because you’ll have to sleep with others so that you have somebody to compare him with. I know this sounds harsh but, trust me, it’s going to happen.
Dear Graham,
I’m newly married and finding it a bit of a trial. I met my wife in New York (she has now joined me in London), and our relationship has always been a transatlantic one, with long periods doing our own thing. Now we’re in the same house in the same country, we seem to have morphed into a hideous version of The Odd Couple.
It turns out that my wife’s idea of heaven is to shoot out of bed at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning and drag me off to a farmers’ market, then spend the rest of the weekend having a couply domestic time. What I like doing is playing poker late into the night and having big lie-ins, followed by mega fried breakfasts.
I’m 31 and not quite ready for this very middle-aged life she’s proposing. And she’s only 26, for goodness sake.
Any ideas on reaching a happy compromise?
Dan W, north London
Dear Dan,
And you got married because…? Did you just fancy a sit-down lunch with some friends and family? You couldn’t afford to buy a new toaster? Seriously, I would like to know.
It sounds as if you put less thought into this than someone buying a pink jumper. Couldn’t you have figured it out before you dragged the poor woman away from her life in America?
One of the reasons she probably wants to do lots of things with you is that right now you are her life. She has made a huge decision based on her love for you and you can’t be bothered to get out of bed for her. Greasy sausages seem to get your heart beating faster than this poor woman does.
Pining for your bachelor days is helping nobody. Action is the key here. You either make the marriage work or you make it stop. So far you have been a chump of award-winning proportions – don’t make it worse. She’s 26, she can still find happiness with someone else. As for you, consider your future without her. You’ll be alone, fat and, as the years tick by, there will be fewer and fewer guys sitting at that poker table. Eventually, no matter how good your hand is, you will feel like a loser.
You didn’t put any thought into getting married; think carefully before you end it.
&n
bsp; Dear Graham,
I’m marrying an Australian physicist this summer and feel increasingly anxious about our differences. He’s not your average beer-swilling, surf-loving Aussie, but is bright and dynamic. The problem is that he comes from a country where sport is worshipped rather than literature or music, whereas it’s books and exhibitions that really make me tick.
I’ll be giving up my job in publishing and moving permanently to Brisbane in the summer and I’m getting terribly cold feet. I worry that the lack of culture will make me shrivel up and die inside.
He’s a great guy and fits in brilliantly with my friends in London, but will I fit in over there? I see a sterile life of palm trees, barbies and cold beers stretching ahead.
Am I being a snob? Or are my fears justified?
Lauren C, west London
Dear Lauren,
Have you actually visited Australia or are you moving there on your first trip? If it’s the latter, then I sense disaster. Worry not, I am not going to indulge in a lot of easy Australia-bashing. I like the place. If it was where France is, I’d go all the time. The trouble is that it’s just so far away.
In the end, it’s not the barbies and pie shops that will get you down, it’s the sense of living on the edge of the planet. When I was there, it felt like being backstage while the main show was going on at a great distance. I’ve a feeling that your physicist husband may not like Brisbane quite so much when he arrives there direct from London.
But the pros and cons of Down Under are simply a distraction from the real issue here. You are moving somewhere for no other reason than to be with your partner. Even if you were moving to Bristol, that is a huge pressure to put on a relationship.
Before you get on that plane, I would urge you to think of some reasons why you’d like to go besides holding hubby’s hand. You come from the world of publishing, so perhaps this is your chance to write that book no one wants to read.
I’m sure there are many words to describe Brisbane, but I can’t imagine that ‘distracting’ is one of them. Live your life for you, not your husband, and maybe this move won’t be a divorce with airline food thrown in for free. Bon voyage!
Dear Graham,
For my birthday, my beautiful Norwegian girlfriend, Ingrid, surprised me with a set of nude photographs of herself. An amateur-photographer friend had offered to take them and they met secretly at his house one weekend when I was away on business. Even though I love the pictures, I have worked myself up into a jealous rage. I hate the fact that he has the images on his computer and can drool all over them whenever he likes.
The ‘photographer’ is gay (I’m told), but I don’t believe a word of it. I’m convinced he leapt at the chance to see Ingrid naked and is ogling the pictures as we speak.
Should I go over to his place and give him a piece of my mind?
Name withheld, Herefordshire
“You can’t tie a partner down like some hot-air balloon filled with love.”
Dear Anon,
Judging from your letter, I wouldn’t rush to give anyone a piece of your mind, since, frankly, I don’t think you can afford to be that generous. Jealousy is a vile and insidious emotion. It grows in the dark with a ruthless and destructive efficiency.
At times there is good reason to be jealous. It could be about friends being chosen over you, or about workplace flirtations and so on, but you are being wildly irrational. Ingrid is clearly a classic Scandinavian and, if this photographer is bothering you, good luck when you go on holiday. It sounds as though the only beachwear you would be happy to see her in is a burka, whereas I imagine Ingrid won’t even bother to pack a bikini.
The one thing I would agree with is that the gay snapper shouldn’t have the photographs on his computer, but that is Ingrid’s fault. It’s great that you love your girlfriend but being with someone isn’t the same as owning them. What makes it special is that the other person wants to be with you and chooses to stay.
You can’t tie a partner down like some hot-air balloon filled with love. Other men may admire and desire Ingrid, but for whatever reason she has decided to hold your hand in public.
Be happy.
But after all that, I feel it would be remiss of me not to add: what sort of person gives a set of pictures of themselves as a birthday present?
Dear Graham,
I have just given up my gym membership because it made me feel old and unlovely. One of the personal trainers is a sort of Adonis – fit and hunky with a permanent Hollywood tan. Even though he’s insanely good looking, he is rather leery and is known for putting his hands in unexpected places. There are always endless jokes in the girls’ changing room about his behaviour.
The depressing thing is that, despite going regularly to his spinning classes and even signing up for one-on-one training, I appear to be the only woman who hasn’t been the recipient of his unwanted attentions. It’s not that I want to be, it’s just that I hate to be consigned to the shelf. Where could I be going wrong?
Sally K, Basingstoke
Dear Sally,
Seriously? This is your problem? Some creepy lech who works in a gym you don’t even go to any more failed to make an inappropriate pass at you. Now you have managed to translate this stroke of good luck into a profound insult that has shaken your self-esteem to its very core.
What other terrible things have happened to you? Did burglars choose another house over yours to break into? Did the drunk guy vomit on someone else on the Tube when you were actually sitting closer to him? Did the vicious dog bite the bloke in the hat instead of you? Getting upset about this man ignoring you at the gym is like a singer getting upset about a bad review written by a deaf person.
Sally, if you feel old and unattractive, then stopping exercise probably isn’t the best plan. Join another gym at once and spend more time on the treadmill than standing around the changing room listening to prattle. We are all judged all the time but, before you take it seriously, judge the judge. If Amanda Holden had listened to me, she wouldn’t have the glittering career she has today.
Dear Graham,
After I went a whole year without meeting a single new person, I finally decided to bite the bullet and do some online dating. A friend advised me to tick the ‘sporty’ box, arguing that it would attract a better class of male. Despite the fact that the only sport I play is ping-pong, I’m now going out with a handsome, solvent guy who runs marathons and climbs mountains.
But, like everything in life, there is a downside. We are both pretty active in the bedroom department (which is great) but what he really likes is having sex in public places. So far we’ve made love in a station car park, the roof of my office, the fire escape of Peter Jones, the Gorilla Kingdom at London Zoo and a boat on the Serpentine.
Keeping up this level of excitement is wearing me out, quite apart from the sheer terror that we might be caught.
I should dump him, shouldn’t I? The man can’t be normal.
Becky R, London
Dear Becky,
Let’s examine the evidence. You ticked the ‘sporty’ box on your online form, but I don’t see how that translates into standing on a fire escape stuffing your knickers into your handbag.
As always, this is a choice between how much you like this man and how much you don’t want your bottom to end up on YouTube.
I don’t think using words such as ‘normal’ is ever useful, especially when discussing relationships. Your man likes high-risk sexual situations and as far as he is aware he has found a great woman who enjoys it as much as he does. Just as you have a choice to make, so does he. If you stop the rooftop romps, he may like you enough to accept that or he may dump you in the hope of finding a cross between Ann Summers and Kate Adie.
To be honest, it all sounds quite exciting to me, but I’m sure his alfresco ardour will be cooled by the onset of winter, so why not just make sure you are wearing clean underwear for the next couple of months and hope for some indoor loving later on?
&
nbsp; I have to say, though, that I doubt being taken roughly on a pingpong table will ever do it for him.
Dear Graham,
I’ve been with my husband for 16 years and have three lovely children. We have had the usual ups and downs, but no major wobbles. We are antique dealers and recently moved into a gorgeous Victorian country house in Devon. All pink and rosy? Here’s where it goes pear-shaped.
My darling husband is a hoarder and his tendencies are getting worse. Nothing is too trivial for him. He even collects the plastic figurines and gadgets in our children’s cereals. From Tweety Bird chains to plastic Smurfs and racing-car magnets, his finds are everywhere.
The children are inured to his growing obsession, but I despair at the prospect of living among miniature trolls and plastic frogs for the rest of my days. I’ve tried to confront him about his problem, but he sees no wrong in it at all.
Not long ago, I invested in a glass dresser to allow him to display his ‘goodies’ in an orderly fashion. But still I find myself pulling out putty-slime eggs from under the bed covers. What can I do?
Carol N, Devon
Dear Carol,
I don’t really know what you expect me to say. You’ve been happily married for 16 years and have three lovely children – that’s great. Your husband collects plastic crap – that’s annoying. The two of you need to put this hobby into perspective.
It must be hard for him to understand how much this upsets you, given that you have allowed it to go on for so long. I imagine he mistook your gesture of buying a display cabinet as a sign of encouragement, rather than the slap on the wrist you intended it to be. Be firm with him. You are sharing a new house and there has to be some give and take.
Ask Graham Page 5