As young men of the modern day, we are spoiled. Spoiled by the freedom we enjoy from the time we've been dandled on grandpa's knee; spoiled by our parents, who respect the skull and crossbones on the door of our teenage years; spoiled by our teachers, who refrain from delving into our personal lives; spoiled by our girlfriends, who head back home for the day just moments before you can't possibly bear their presence any longer; spoiled by our universities, who give us dorms with a door; pretty much spoiled till....right about now.
Things change rather drastically when you get married. I didn't believe an acquaintance who told me this before the wedding: "The toughest thing to get used to is the total lack of 'your' space. Everything's in the public domain, including your bathroom slippers." I pooh-poohed his wise words then, promising myself to never lose my individuality. Codswallop.
As a sex, womankind posseses a tendency to nurture their man, and believe they know best. Be it your mother who comments on your hairstyle and your apparant lack of personal hygiene, to your teacher who insists that you are "basically a good child who needs to be shown the way", despite your best efforts to annihilate her.
The wife is not much different. Toothbrushes get changed every month, socks with holes are deposited in the garbage dumpster with a Machiavellian finnesse, your beloved 1987 Bryan Adams t-shirt is doing duty as a dishcloth, your car is officially a grocery cart, your faux Oakleys (spelt Oaklea or something like that) are suddenly too ugly to wear in public, and the music you listen to is 'immature'. This last item cuts me to the quick. Its my music, sweetheart. I grew up listening to it....behind closed doors in my room. (Aha!)
The long and short of it - Believe me, bandhu. Once the honeymoon ends and normal day-to-day life begins, your space is your spouse's b***h. Get used to it. Don't complain about it or you might lose your"closed bathroom door while shaving" privilege. Your life isn't just about you anymore.