Getting to Know You
Justin and I had a relationship milestone the other day, and I didn't even realize it was happening until it was already happening.
Ever since I moved into my freshman dorm, I have had a blue plastic three-drawer thingy where I've kept random shit. I've gone through it everytime I've moved (five or six times, at this point), and tossed the things I didn't want anymore. But it has always been filled with an odd assortment of things once considered important, or that needed a place to live. Old wallets, fliers, office supplies, birthday cards, photos, anarchist stickers, buttons, stationary, bouncy balls, etc.
During a Spring Cleaning spree the other day, Justin announced that since all the important papers were stuffed in an expanding file next to the TV in no discernible order, he was going to clean out the blue plastic three-drawer thingy so we could actually use it for something useful.
At first, I protested. It's all my shit! You don't have anything in there! I can do it! We can put the papers somewhere else! It was oddly territorial, a way I don't usually act, especially with the boyfriend I've been cohabitating with for almost a year now.
But I lit a cigarette, relaxed, and sat on the couch. Justin did all the work, "organizing" shit into disorganized piles, while I offered my opinions on the merits of certain items, and ordered him NOT to throw others away.
It took about a half an hour, and somewhere in the middle of that, I realized that after a year and a half (approximately) of relationship, Justin had still managed to interact with me in a way no one else ever has. So, maybe it was more practical than romantic, but it was still new and scary and fun.
I think that's a good sign.
Ever since I moved into my freshman dorm, I have had a blue plastic three-drawer thingy where I've kept random shit. I've gone through it everytime I've moved (five or six times, at this point), and tossed the things I didn't want anymore. But it has always been filled with an odd assortment of things once considered important, or that needed a place to live. Old wallets, fliers, office supplies, birthday cards, photos, anarchist stickers, buttons, stationary, bouncy balls, etc.
During a Spring Cleaning spree the other day, Justin announced that since all the important papers were stuffed in an expanding file next to the TV in no discernible order, he was going to clean out the blue plastic three-drawer thingy so we could actually use it for something useful.
At first, I protested. It's all my shit! You don't have anything in there! I can do it! We can put the papers somewhere else! It was oddly territorial, a way I don't usually act, especially with the boyfriend I've been cohabitating with for almost a year now.
But I lit a cigarette, relaxed, and sat on the couch. Justin did all the work, "organizing" shit into disorganized piles, while I offered my opinions on the merits of certain items, and ordered him NOT to throw others away.
It took about a half an hour, and somewhere in the middle of that, I realized that after a year and a half (approximately) of relationship, Justin had still managed to interact with me in a way no one else ever has. So, maybe it was more practical than romantic, but it was still new and scary and fun.
I think that's a good sign.
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