Last night when I came home he called to me, and like always I went, opening the door. But before I touched anything I realized what was happening and instead I went upstairs, changed my clothes and drank three glasses of water.
Then the rest of the family came home, with groceries and the makings of dinner. I started putting things away and he was smiling again. Each time I opened the door to put something away, I lingered a little longer. Was there cheese in there? A crumble of stilton, a wedge of brie? Was there something that needed no preparation that could be popped into my mouth and not recorded? I shut the door again. No. I will eat dinner.
We made a wonderful dinner of sauted crawish and whole wheat pasta, then I pulled up the episode of Lost we had missed. And he interrupted me again, calling me to the leftovers. No, I will not go to you. I realized how strong the pull was even though I was not hungry. Why? Is it a genetically mapped survival mechanism: eat all you can, there may be famine in your future? Is it a habit?
I said it out loud. I spoke the words. "I'm not hungry, but I would eat more dinner if it were here. I'm full, but if there were something to eat in my hands, I would eat it." I talked about it with my family, then went to bed. The weekend, without the structure of work will be difficult.
I'm ending this relationship.
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