Musings: Pet Peeves


The old saying goes, do not make a mountain out of a molehill. But mountains were not built in a day. It’s the little things. It always has been, that adds up to the big thing and then - BOOM - an explosion! 

When I tell you to find a seat away from the loud music, do not laugh it off and tell me I’ll get used to it. That two more drinks down I would be the one swaying to the music. For I will roll my eyes at you. And you will find yourself getting slightly irritated with me. 

That’s your pet peeve. You cannot stand it when I do not argue with you, instead choose to roll my eyes. You find it frustrating and funny - all the things in the world that bother me. Because to you, those things are insignificant. They should not be taking up space in my head in the first place. 

Using my Amazon Prime account to watch a series I just started and accidentally spoiling what happens in season 2, episode 5. Because how was I supposed to know someone can leave an episode midway? 

I am used to feeling you squeeze my arm gently during the movies because someone invariably forgot to put their phone on silent. You would think with multiple reminders they would do a better job! But there’s always one person whose phone will ring right in the middle of a plot twist. The gentle squeeze is to remind me not to snap into the darkness or hiss at people to put their phones on silent. 

Before you came along, I was on my unconquerable journey of trying to find Prince Charming on a white horse. I tried looking for him on dating apps and in familiar faces. Got tired of hearing this one phrase, over and over again, “So, what exactly are you looking for here?” To some, I replied. To others, I ignored it. Until you saw right through my answer and called me out on it. “This has become a pet peeve, hasn’t it?” 

You soon discovered other little things that bothered me enough to give me a big headache. When you set down the coffee mug on the table and did not use the coaster. When I would not let you help with my laundry because only I know how to fold my t-shirt and organise my cupboard in apple-pie-order. 

I do not like being called by someone else’s name. And you’ve called me by my sister’s, just because you like how I snap at you and get a glint in my eye. I say that on Sundays you get on my nerves especially, and you bring out my inner serial killer. You laugh it off and tell me I am adorable. 

You try to pinch my cheeks as I swat your hands away. Are you kidding me? How many times have I told you not to do that? Especially when I am furious about something. Instead you pat my head and tell me everything will be fine. 

We sit down on the sofa and I put my head on your shoulders. You sit ramrod straight for a second before relaxing. It had slipped my mind how when we first met you flinched at anyone touching you. But with time you eased into it, you did not mind my stealing a few minutes of rest with my head on your shoulder. You put your arms around me and I am assured that if you can work on your pet peeves...maybe someday, so can I. 


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