The Danger of an OB Stock

Things were going well for Valentina for a long time. Actually very good. We don’t have to talk about swimming. This project, as the saying goes, fell through. (Hoo.) From the beginning she did not appreciate my efforts to the extent I thought appropriate, and anyone who does not want to learn should not be taught. Plus it’s starting to get cold.

I am convinced that the fact that it went so well has to do with the fact that it didn’t have to result in anything. She didn’t want anything serious, real, solid. And I never want anything serious, real, solid. It is the ideal state. A perfect interaction. A match made in heaven! Or so. In any case, I haven’t been this relaxed with a woman in a long time. Which I really love. Valentina almost never annoyed me. We saw each other at least twice a week, sometimes more, and I always thought that was okay.

It wasn’t ‘just’ about sex either. That’s just what I’m saying. We went to the cinema twice. Once we saw the overhyped Barbie movie and once we saw indie nonsense that was supposed to be an insider tip but was so confusing that neither of us understood it. We also played table tennis, ordered pizza twice and watched many trailers and some first episodes of Netflix series.

We are with me most of the time. Almost never with her. She lives in a shared apartment with five other people. A bath. This is just tiring. And above all, the apartment is not centrally located. There’s no point in being with her. I always thought it was good that we were with me. Until this week it started to become too much. Not with ‘being with me’, but with ‘leaving things with me’.

There was a toothbrush quite early on. Green and unusually short. I thought it was okay. Everyone needs to brush their teeth and no one likes bad breath. The next time there were three hair ties in the bathroom, I have no idea why a woman would need three hair ties at the same time, but here too there was no problem, hair ties went in the bathroom cabinet.

Three days ago I had two packs of OB next to the hair ties, green and yellow, and a face cream next to it.

Of course other women have forgotten things about me. But Valentina “forgot” nothing, she left everything on purpose. It’s not the space she takes up that bothers me, it’s that she’s always there when she’s not. Because her stuff is here. Because there are things here that would never be there without them.

Now there are three options: I throw everything away. Except the toothbrush. Which isn’t particularly nice. But she never asked me if she could leave things here.

Or I talk to her about it. But then I would have to have a discussion about everything. I hate these kinds of discussions.

Third option: I ignore things. If I pretend they aren’t there long enough, my brain may eventually believe they aren’t there. Or that they are mine. (A rhyme, folks. Just for you.)

Maybe you have tips. Probably not. You’re all probably saying, it’s totally okay, it’s fun, we’re all just human, blah blah blah, but that’s not the point. It’s about my territory. And the subtle threat of it!

So long,

Ben