He Thinks Your Feedback Is Nagging

I've seen people lose sight of what's important in a haze of nagging. Only in the relationship post-mortems do friends reveal telling gems like, "I hated her laugh, but at least she laughed at my jokes," "She picked on me for the way I would parallel park, but didn't even thank me for driving her to work," or "I really miss those damn love handles."

"Nagging? I'm giving you feedback," Teresa explained to me.

Excellent. Calling it "feedback" is perfectly apt.  Just like the audio phenomenon, here we have the result of a noisemaker resonating only with itself—and it's so annoying, it makes everyone in the room throw their hands over their ears to avoid the screeching.

Still, I try to have compassion for the nagger and for our situation.  With the most commonly-nagged topics (cleanliness/appearance, driving, food, and manners), we're up against the result of the habits developed from a single life, of not having to be accountable to another person.  They're the benefits—and the costs—of freedom. 

And there is plenty of crap not to like about people (You're older than nine and you're wearing Crocs?). But, as the saying goes, "Is this the hill I want to die on?" Am I willing to be single again because of how she cuts her meat? (Alas, this proved not to be a rhetorical question.)

And if it is worth bringing up, can't it be done in a way that doesn't seem to say, ultimately: You're driving me nuts and now I'm going to return the favor. 

But there is hope. What to one partner is a disgusting habit is to another the cutest little thing. 

Ruby would have carried a portable electroshock device to zap me every time I let even a silent burp slip through my lips. Carrie laughs and kisses me on the cheek when I finish dinner with a window-rattling belch.

Come to think of it, I find that laugh and kiss a little annoying. I think I'll mention it to her.