I needed to write about this boy peeing in my bed. Seriously. I kept this quiet when it happened and I struggled with that. I couldn't figure out why I was so afraid to confront him. It wasn't because I was afraid that he would stop liking me or something or that I would get made fun of. It was more complicated. I didn't want it in our relationship, yet - the idea of me cleaning up after him.
Then over time, I realized that theme of me cleaning up after him was so prevalent in our relationship. He would mess up and I would put it back together. I would get upset and then reshape it. I would force apologies when I needed them and clean sheets when he peed on me.
When he told my friend that I reminded him of his mother - in a romantic way - (talk about some fucked up freud shit) I was like BINGO. I want to be his friend, to be playful and to have fun. I wanted to use the relationship as an escape from my academic and professional life in similar ways I use alcohol... Yet, he wasn't letting me because as we got closer and I cared about him more, I asked for more out of him than to be my "alcohol."
Is this personal essay enough? In hindsight, and revision, I want to add more reflections on a woman's role in our culture. I also want to add a scene on the progression of our relationship as more real and less about partying. Because although it's hard to get him to admit it - it was real too.
Oh and it's funny. Urine is so funny!
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