Mop In The Name Of Love
My girlfriend of two years is a real gem, and has a terrific kid. While she's an incredibly organized and efficient office manager, and maybe even borderline workaholic, the rest of her life is messy and chaotic. I'm hesitating to propose to her because I often feel like her maid and valet. For example, she had a black ring in her bathtub for three months until I finally broke down and scrubbed it myself. But, it isn't only housework getting sacrificed, it's also time with me. Recently, after we planned to exercise together during her son's soccer practices, she instead volunteered for "Team Mom" – while I was standing right there! Can I be with her without being forced to supervise her chaos?

-Afraid To Take The Grunge

Forget any fantasies you might have that this woman will someday fight you for the feather duster and the Scotch-Brite. You can count on her to mop when the bacteria grow legs and start chasing the cat. She'll dust about as often as she drinks goat's blood. And she's sure to clean out her refrigerator – just as soon as her fruit and vegetable drawer gets picketed by people in pleather Birkenstocks, shouting, "Fur Is Murder!"

Why take her domestic disabilities personally? You might have the power to sense a lone microbe coming to life on the bathroom faucet, but it simply doesn't occur to her to break out the Lysol until she notices guys in HAZMAT suits jumping out of unmarked vans and "securing the location." How did she ever manage before you marched into her life to serve and disinfect? Just fine, thanks, same as she'll manage if you grab your do-rag and your pail and march out. Astonishing as it may be, some people do lead satisfying, productive lives while rings of microorganisms blacken their bathtubs.

When your girlfriend isn't tempting all the little mite colonies to band together and carry her house away, she's reciting purchase orders, from memory, like epic poetry, and guarding against the wanton overconsumption of Post-Its. Yes, here's a woman who spends her days goose-stepping around the office with a stopwatch and a whistle. It's no wonder you suspect her of organizational infidelity when she stands paralyzed in the face of two cobwebs and three dirty dishes.

But, do you really think she raised her hand for Top Soccer Mommy because she sees you as her first line of cancellation – or because, at that moment, she didn't see you at all? There's a good chance she's one of those competitive types who gets her props from taking on the impossible, and actually has a mind like a steel sieve which she plugs with wads of chewing gum to impress everybody at the office. If you're frequently getting the short end of the day planner, help her understand that it makes you feel unimportant and unloved. But remember, this is her kid she threw you over for, not some guy she picked up in a bar. Chances are, he'll often take priority. If you can't get used to it, you'd better get lost.

As much as you've enjoyed assigning yourself the role formerly played by a cleanser-tossing Faye Dunaway in Mommy Dearest, the resentment you're building up is the stuff "irreconcilable differences" are made of. Gently reveal to your girlfriend how little it costs to make you happy – perhaps $75 a week, depending on what maid service goes for in your area. As hard as it is to find good help these days, it's infinitely harder to find a good man – and infinitely harder to keep him if he's supplanted the desire to give his girlfriend a ring with the desire to acid-blast one out of her bathtub.

Abroad Hint
In September, I spent two amazing hours on a plane talking to a guy off to study for a year in Italy. We e-mailed, and he expressed interest in seeing me upon his return, but he hasn't written in months. If I can't get him out of my head, isn't this a sign this is something worth holding onto?

-Roman Holiday

Tact is cheap. How did you expect him to respond, "Please stop e-mailing me. I'm busy having sex all over the countryside with this crazy Sicilian chick"? What you have in common with any airplane seatmate is the need to kill time in the most pleasant way possible. Two people can have the most soul-to-soul chat, then feel relieved when the plane lands and they can get on with never seeing each other again. Stop cuing the wedding march. The guy's a stranger you sat next to almost a year ago. Not being able to get him out of your head is a sign; one that reads, "My seatmate went to Italy and all I got was this lousy imaginary relationship."

Got a problem? Write Amy Alkon, 171 Pier Ave, #280, Santa Monica, CA 90405, or e-mail AdviceAmy@aol.com (www.advicegoddess.com)

This article appears in Apr 13-19, 2005.