Can. You. Please. Stop. Chewing. So. Loud.

How moving in with my boyfriend and befriending the kitchen turned into a dramatic saga of self-discovery

Heart Beets. The author’s photo (enhanced with Sora) and drawings.

How it all started

We’d been together less than a year when my boyfriend said he’d like to live with me. I freaked out. That was too much change, too soon. Plus, living that close to another human, rejection felt imminent. But then a friend took my hand, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Carmen, you will always have the option to move out.” And that was it, I moved in with my boyfriend.

As it turned out, I really am difficult to live with.

• “Ugh, the light is too bright!”
  Morning light pours through the wall-to-ceiling windows. I hiss at my boyfriend as if he dragged all that sunlight into my eyeballs with malicious intent.
  Attitude: accusatory, frustrated at the world.
• “Can. You. Please. Stop. Chewing. So. Loud.”
  My boyfriend really enjoys his peanuts. But his chewing offends my entire existence; it’s the most blatant act of disrespect for my person.
  Attitude: contempt, disgust, fiery anger that burns through my voice.
• “Nooo, look what you’ve done! Can’t you do anything right!?”
  The blender smells of fermented fruit because he didn’t clean it properly. Such…