I'm a guy.  I watch a lot of sports.  I like to eat chicken wings and pizza.  I don't have a flat stomach and I could definitely stand to lose a few pounds.  I like to gamble and play poker, I get annoyed easily, hate small-talk, and occasionally check out Instagram models wearing yoga pants.  Oh, and I leave the toilet seat up.  Apparently all the time.
 I'm not a complete idiot, I know the things that I need to work on, and thankfully, I have an amazing girlfriend named Samantha who also knows what I need to work on. And  despite my shortcomings, she still loves me. Trust me, I ask her every day.

Here's a little more about Samantha:

She loves lists, inspirational books and enjoys seminars on leadership and shit.  She has neat hand-writing, typically likes everybody, is usually very organized, an impeccable dresser and always looks like she's in great shape, even when she's on a month long cookie and ice-cream binge that would make Augustus Gloop jealous.
Sam also loves dry erase boards.  Don't ask me how or why this became her thing, but she does.  In her super neat handwriting, she'll write a list of things that we (mostly me) need to accomplish. Things like pay the bills on time, do the laundry, plan a date night, and the one that appears pretty regularly on Samantha's dry-erase board of death: Put the Toilet Seat Down.
Every time I see this, I take a deep breath, and then slowly try to formulate an argument proving that I have in fact, been putting the lid down on the shitter.  I lose every time.
Confidently I'll say something like, "Sam, I know I put the toilet seat down in the main bathroom!"
"No you didn't...it was up." she'll fire back.  That's usually followed by me staring off into space retracing my pee history.
Imagine being a grown man, trying to remember what happened following every piss you've taken.  Unless I have photo evidence, dated and initialed by the FBI, I know I'm a loser. Even if I think I'm right.
"Wait, maybe it was the other bathroom where I put the seat down...I specifically recall  putting a particular toilet seat down today" I'll say in the most calm voice I can.
"Nope" she says, looking up from the latest daily inspiration book of wisdom, kindness, puppies and pandas she's reading at the time. "You left that one up too, it's not a big deal, don't worry about it" she'll say. Which is total bullshit, but I do appreciate that she's not trying to escalate the situation anymore.
In Samantha's world, just having me recognize that I leave the seat up is a win for her according to somethings she's she read (and is applying) from her daily affirmations of unicorns doing yoga.
But I know the truth: It doesn't make it onto the dry-erase board unless it's a thing. And when it's a thing, it needs to be done.  I'm knee deep in shit right now and pissing in the wind.  All the lids are up, and all my defenses are down.
Cognizant in my shortcomings, but somehow unable to make significant change, I've actually started to justify why it's not that big of a deal to leave the seat of the pissoir up.  After formulating a plan in my head, I shared my vision. Like a candidate sharing an exciting vision on a worldwide platform it was time to win over the only voter who matters, my girlfriend.
"Samantha, It's 2020" I exclaimed. "This house is a partnership as men and women, we are equals.   We do an equal amount of cooking, cleaning and shopping and we use the bathroom exactly the same amount.  Isn't it time that women leave the seat up for us guys?"
I don't remember exactly what Samantha said following my attempt at lavatory equal rights, but the look she gave me said it all.  I immediately suspended my campaign and basically shut the hell up.
When it was time to use the bathroom again later that day, I left the seat down.  Damn near nailed it to the toilet.  Feeling a bit defeated,  I figured I would use the next few moments to clean my self up a bit; a hot shower would feel good.
Before I jumped in, I looked around for my razor so that I could trim my beard a bit.  It was nowhere to be seen.  I walked over to Sam to ask if she had seen it.
"Oh yeah" she casually said. "I was using it to shave my legs and it was getting all dull so I threw the blade away."
Scared for my life and all things holy, I sheepishly said "But.....that....was my last razor and I don't have any more of them...and since when are we sharing razors?"
That's when she hit me with "No biggie, just write it up on the dry erase board so that you don't forget to buy more!"
Of course.  The dry erase board.  Duh...
Sam's dry erase board of death
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