The Luv Doc: Done with Doing
It's OK for people to be wrong – horribly, obnoxiously wrong
By The Luv Doc, Fri., March 10, 2017
Dear Luv Doc,
I have been dating a really wonderful guy, except he has one tiny little flaw. It probably wouldn't even bother most people but it personally drives me bonkers. Every time he orders food – even at McDonald's – he says "I'll do a ..." instead of "I would like a ..." or "I'll have a ...." I know this is a really small thing, but I feel like it is creating distance in our relationship. I want him to do me ... not his cheeseburger. What can I tell him to make him stop?
– Done With Doing
You're right, that's not that big of a deal – tiny, really – but I think you should break up with him. That kind of thing is acceptable if he's caricaturing a pretentious hipster onstage in an improv skit, but if he's saying it unironically, well, intentionally or not, he's using it as a form of birth control – sort of like driving a non-military issue Hummer or claiming you voted for the president.
It's all right for people to be wrong – horribly, obnoxiously wrong. It happens. I personally rocked a mullet through the latter half of the Eighties and routinely wore a fanny pack in the early Nineties (there wasn't enough pocket room in my Zubaz, OK?) and were it not for the heroic, merciless ridicule of my dear friends, I might still be Rollerblading around in a butt bag right now.
Thankfully I had friends (and plenty of family) who were cruel enough to publicly eviscerate me at every opportunity. I hold no grudges. If you're going to surf the new wave you're going to get whirlpooled every now and then. The tallest blade of grass gets cut first and whatnot. Deep down though, I know I owe a debt of gratitude to those people, and I try to repay it by getting up in their chili regularly.
You know why I don't have an adorable earring in my left ear? Because the day after my trip to the Piercing Pagoda, I sat down next to my grandpa at Sunday dinner and throughout the entire meal he looked at me in silence like that sad Native American in that Seventies litter commercial. I folded like a cheap suit.
Look, he's probably not going to notice the lone tear streaming down your cheek every time he says, "I'll do a Whopper and hold the mayo" (Why is he taking you to Burger King, anyway?), so your best option is to give your boyfriend the space he needs to be a pretentious douche bag. Feel free to leave him a Sharpied Post-It note on the bathroom mirror explaining your exasperation with his insistence on ordering food like he's Guy fucking Fieri, but drop him like a hot potato, nonetheless.
If you don't cut the cord now, you're going to end up with a knee-socked, Moses-bearded dude who doesn't even know how to mow your fucking lawn. Is that what you want? Really?
