Singular Behavior

I have never lived with a lover before. In fact, I am a particularly terrible roommate. Primarily due to the fact that I am particular about the cleanliness of space, specifically shared space. What you do with your space? I don’t care. But if you don’t do the dishes, I want to wring your neck.

But here’s the weird thing: Living with my boyfriend, I’m the one who makes the messes. 

Yes, he leaves his clothes on the floor, but so do I. In fact I have an utter disdain for folding and storing my clothes after they’ve been washed. I will let the basket of clean clothes sit on the floor of the closet for two weeks, caring only because they block the walkway or make the room unsightly.

I like clean spaces. I do! I’m far more productive in a clean, organized space. But I have a strange aversion to actually putting things in their proper places with any regularity. And I mean <i>any</i> regularity. I love clean laundry, but I loathe putting it away. I live for an empty kitchen sink, especially in the mornings, but there is nothing I dread more than unloading a packed dishwasher at any given time of day.

I never understood how much I loved my time alone until I found myself in a serious relationship. There is an episode of “Sex and the City” that mentions so-called “secret single behavior.” I never quite understood that, that concept of not fully being yourself in front of or around your lover. Though truthfully, that’s not, I’ve realized, the issue. In fact, I’ve found, in my case, that it’s the holistic circumstance rather than any particular act.

love to sit on my couch with my cat and a glass of wine filled far above the line of polity and watch bad reality TV or random documentaries on Netflix (whichever is more interesting or, more likely, available) and paint my nails.

I used to paint my nails every day to every-other-day.

Now? I’m lucky if I can be bothered to paint them once a month.

I am consistently ashamed of my nails.

As if having hideous feet wasn’t enough.

I miss doing my nails every day to every-other-day. 

I suppose now is the time to find that spot in the between. 

Tonight? I’m doing just that. 

And even though I’m a little sad that I’m not snuggled up next to Jonathan, I’m pretty damn content.


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