A woman's poem...

[Gentleman]

He didn't like the casserole
And he didn't like my cake,
He said my biscuits were too hard
Not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right
He didn't like the stew,
I didn't mend his socks
The way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and
smacked the crap out of him...

Like his mother used to do.

[tia travels]

Maybe that was what he was aiming for the whole time....to be smacked.