Inevitably, all relationships end, whether we like it or not. And while the causes of a break-up are usually obvious in hindsight, they can often catch you by surprise. Luckily, we’ve laid out the exact reason your marriage will fall apart for you here. Read on, if you dare:
Well, the lies didn’t help. Things really start to go downhill when they find out your real name isn’t “Doctor McFreak” and that you don’t actually work as “the only street-fighter/physicist NASA could find in time.”
You never stop, which your spouse loved about you. At first, that is. They thought you’d take a break at least. Maybe just to eat, or for a quick power nap. But you never stop. They wander after you, calling your name. But you take no heed of them. The soles wear off of their shoes, and their legs grow thinner. They collapse somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, following you over a hill. You don’t look back.
It’s great that you like to get things done at your own pace. You’re not rushed, and you’re less likely to make mistakes. But perhaps, your wife suggests in the last message she sends you, you don’t need to take seventeen fucking years to build a bookshelf.
You’ve always hated authority figures, which you should have really thought more about before marrying the President.
There’s nothing wrong with being a homebody, but that doesn’t mean you can simply never leave your house. And you certainly can’t hire a small militia of vagrants to set up an elaborate series of wire and pulleys around your neighborhood, so that you can complete basic tasks from the comfort of your couch. I mean, look at your spouse. They’ve gotten themselves all tangled up in the wires out back. And now they’re calling for help, but you’re stuck waiting at the window, watching them squirm.
Your instruments! You’ve got thousands of instruments, which you constantly insist will increase in value as time goes on. You rent an entire second apartment simply to house and display them. However, your wife has a hard time believing that thirty thousand kazoos are truly a replacement for a 401k.
Disorganized by nature, your spouse used to love how orderly you were. And they were at peace with your need to cover your furniture with plastic, so that it wouldn’t get dirty. Perhaps the bathroom was a bit much, though. Also, they’d really appreciate it if you could unwrap them now.
Your husband loved how fair-minded you were, but now he’s all angry, shouting about how “King Solomon’s judgement was poor!” and how you “shouldn’t have let them cut the baby in half!” And here you thought he was on your side.
The two of you were so in love, you were practically obsessed with each other. But you’re married now, and there’s no need to follow them to work. Or to take clippings of their hair in the night. Or to “jokingly” suggest it’d be fun to drink each other’s blood.
It was a simple dare. You were just trying to be cute. “Bring me the moon,” you told him. It’s been seven months. Sometimes you picture him up there, looking down at you, still trying to drag that damned thing down to Earth. But deep down, you know that ten dozen balloons and a lawn chair could never have taken him all the way there. No, the Pacific has him now.
You constantly try to drag your husband on all sorts of excursions. Bike rides through fields, hikes through sparse woodland, kayaking down the Delaware River, and so much more. As much as he loves you, though, he still constantly complains. You can hear him now, crying out, “I’m allergic to sunlight! Why won’t you listen?” What a baby.
You invent a robot-husband. Your human one is not a fan.