Remember this story? I’ll skip over the part where (two nights later) he accused me of giving us chlamydia, shrugged away the proof that it wasn’t from me, and refused to join me in my research to figure out where it came from, after demanding to know where it came from. My friends said I should break up with him. I was terrified that he’d break up with me.
Fast-forward to December. I was between apartments. COVID was at its height. Neither of us were strictly following any rules. I was staying at his place until my new flat became available. Ideally, I should have been excited for a cozy, isolated time. But it had been ages since I’d lived with anyone, and I was nervous. I was scared he’d see the sides of me that were less attractive, that moved randomly between tasks, slumped over my laptop. Was this a self-fulfilling prophecy? Or was it bad because he’s an asshole?
Rachel called to ask me if she could drop off some vegan butter tomorrow. I figured if she and her fiance are coming all the way here, they may as well stay for dinner. I could cook for everyone. What a lovely, cozy evening that would be. I texted my boyfriend and asked if I should invite them. He said yes.
The next evening, he came home from work. I went up to the door, so excited to greet him. He was in a terrible mood.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him.
He said he was angry that I’d invited my friends over. That he’d asked for a quiet time while I was here, and I was stepping on his boundaries.
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I asked you yesterday, if it’s alright, and you said yes.”
“Why must I always be the gatekeeper? It’s not fair!”
“Okay, fine,” I said, “I see your point.” It wasn’t the right time to mention that it’s on both of us to communicate openly. I went into solution mode, “They probably haven’t left their house yet. It’s two hours away. Why don’t I call them and tell them not to come over?”
“No, that doesn’t look good. Don’t do that.”
“Nah, it’s fine!” I reassured him, “I’ll tell them one of us had a suspicious cough earlier. It’s the golden excuse. Besides, I know Rachel. We’ve been friends for a decade, she really won’t care about a cancelled plan. I’d rather you be comfortable.”
“No no no,” he insisted, “You’re just stirring up drama. No need to be so dramatic. Just let them come.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, “Because it’s just a text away. Seriously, I respect your need for a quiet evening.”
He told me not to message them anything.
I’d already picked a very easy recipe to throw together for the evening. Tofu, mushrooms, ramen, and a creamy miso sauce. The entire dinner, I was hoping Rachel wouldn’t notice that Boyfriend was in a bad mood.
When I normally have friends over for dinner, I invite them to stay on the couch for a nightcap, giggle about our day or whatever conversation we were having. The air was so stern, however, that I made an excuse about needing to go to bed very soon. They graciously left. “Go relax,” I told Boyfriend, “I’ll clean up.” He huffed and puffed but insisted on cleaning up with me. I wanted to appreciate it but I really just preferred to be alone in the kitchen that night.
He went to play his videogames and I went to bed. He arrived to bed when I was quarter-way asleep. We had sex like nothing happened.
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