(Untitled)

[semprestate]

whatever you don't, don't do everything for him. make him cook dinner, do the dishes, take out the trash.

these were my mother's words of wisdom upon hearing that i was moving in with him, that i was essentially let him have the milk for free, as the old saying goes, that i was rushing my way into a reality that she herself knew from the age of

Comments

[nosce]

Oh, dear, oh darling, I know. I do. I told myself I would never be the Stepford Wife, the Betty Crocker, the Suzy Homemaker, that I would be the wild and wicked artist girl who likes cookies and milk and sleeping until nine thirty in the morning, but every day I see myself:
doing dishes (he hasn't done any in five months. The deal was that I would do dishes and he would clean toilets, but the bowls have been scrubbed once. In five months. And I refuse to step in and do it as a matter of principle.)
making dinner (because his specialty is grilled cheese and what he proudly refers to as a "cheese plane"- a cream cheese and tortilla number that's painful to think about)
keeping the perfect waistline and looking lovely for his friends, so they all know what a catch he has, since all of their wives are potheads and hairdressers.
Yes, he does buy groceries. Yes, he does pay the bills. That keeps me from nagging him, except for the one time that I said, "If my mother were here, I'd be ashamed to let her use the toilet".
It is so easy to step into these roles, ever the Martha Stewart with Freida Kahlo shaking her head in despair over the whole bit.

Hope things go well for you, love.