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Equality | Relationships
My Boyfriend Is Doing the Dishes, and I’m Not Happy
Even though I should be.
My definition of a peaceful Saturday morning is waking up early, making myself some coffee, and sitting on the balcony couch, right by the window, to read or write. That Saturday, I was working on a paper. I’ve been studying clinical psychology, an unforgiving, bloodthirsty god that demands the sacrifice of my spare time, especially my Saturday mornings.
It was almost 11 am, most of my morning was gone, and I wasn’t quite where I thought I’d be with that damn paper when my precarious peace was broken by the sound of plates clinking in the kitchen. My boyfriend had woken up and was doing the dishes.
It wasn’t the noise that bothered me, but what they signified: that I had failed my duties as a woman and a hostess. My chest felt tight. I thought I’d get to the dishes before he woke, but I failed. He wasn’t supposed to be doing the dishes I left in the sink the night before. The dishes we left in the sink, I corrected myself. He had dinner here, too. He used as many plates and knives and forks as I did. But I was the one who had said out loud, “I’ll clean this tomorrow,” laying claim to the pile on the sink like a conquistador over a pile of stolen gold.