Annoying habits my girlfriend is beating out of me: Episode 1

My girlfriend is pretty spectacular. Smart, sociable, conscientious. Me? Not so much. I like to think that this makes us a well-balanced, fully funtional unit, but she's decided that my inability to negotiate through the most mundane of human-interactions without incident is a character flaw, rather than the endearing quirk I keep telling her it is.

I've noticed lately that she's taken a more proactive approach to eliminating my autistic proclivities, which I can only ascribe to the sudden realisation that she's already invested three years in me, and will forever be regarded as sullied in the eyes of all other men.

Today, I'll tell you about one such quirk, starting with the background:

During the academic year of 2006/2007 I racked up an impressive tally of air-miles, and often found myself rushing through busy airport terminals to catch connecting flights. It was always a pain that most time was spent at the security checkpoints, and I'd often find myself running towards my gate whilst fastening my belt.

It makes sense, right? Everybody in the airport has jumped through the same hoops you did, so anyone looking at the man walking through the terminal dressing himself should be able to deduct that he just came through security and is rushing to his gate.

Well, eventually I made it a policy to save time in all my belt-buckling endeavours when leaving security checkpoints; regardless of whether I was in a panicked dash to the gate, or leisurely browsing through duty-free shops, I'd be seen adjusting my pants.

I realised that I had hit the nadir of this slippery slope when walking out of a cinema water-closet towards my patiently waiting ladyfriend. She had her shoulders agressively hunched in puzzlement and asked me "what the hell" I was doing.

I wondered if I had left something hanging out as I tightened my belt, then realised that the kerfuffle was over the habit I paid little attention to. A time-saving habit from my 'airport' programming had permeated every occurrence of my belt refastening.

The trouble with these behavioural abnormalities is that since I only get to see my ladyfriend for a few days every few months, the inevitable relapses mean that we often retread the same territory, only with increasing exasperation on her part.

Most guys I know love saving time, and we often share little tips to shave a few seconds off daily routines (like flushing the toilet during the final 15% of urination so you can just zip up and walk away), and it seems to me that the problem lies with society, not me, so finding the right motivational angle proves difficult for my stalwart woman-friend.

To wean off breaking the unwritten law of society pertaining to correct belt-usage, she's tried vocal indignation, silent disgruntlement, and attempted to shame me in front of her friends, all to no avail.

A few months ago, we were visiting her friends who had just got married, moved in together, and were generally getting well into the 'grown up' phase of their lives. After returning to the living room, where all eyes were fixed on the TV, my beloved spun around with a big smile on her face. Her eyes met mine, then flicked down to see that I was still getting dressed. She turned back towards the TV, visibly disappointed, and for the first time, I felt a pang of shame.


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