Yeah… she told me she’d handle the dishes.

But here I am… fork in hand… washing my own damn pain.

Hell no.

She said, “You cook, I’ll clean” — that was our deal,

But them pots still crusty like a wagon wheel.

There’s gunk on the plates, and spite in the air,

She said she’d wash ‘em, but I don’t think she care.

She got a ring, I got a sponge,

This ain’t love, it’s a rinse cycle grudge.

I’m soakin’ in soap, she’s scrollin’ TikTok,

And now I’m startin’ to think she married for crockpots.

The dishwasher’s a liar! (Liar!)

Ain’t seen suds since our weddin’ attire!

She got a Keurig, I got regret,

And a sink full o’ trauma that’s still drippin’ wet!

She say, “That ain’t my job, I’m a queen, not a maid,”

But royalty don’t microwave ten-year-old flayed fillets.

I’m eatin’ off Frisbees, she’s postin’ pics,

“DinnerForTwo” but it’s lies and fish sticks.

I once saw her load a fork in upside-down…

IN. UPSIDE. DOWN.

The dishwasher’s a liar! (Liar!)

All them dirty spoons startin’ a choir!

She got a spa day, I got a rash,

From washin’ dishes in this marital trash!

So if you ever say “I do,”

Make sure she ain’t just leavin’ suds to you…

I loved her deep, I loved her true…

But now my heart’s got soap scum too.

“She just bought a new air fryer… didn’t even open the manual.”