Frank wanted to move in with me on his own. My parents were helping me rent an apartment, and I lived alone, while he was living with his extended family. I didn’t mind – I wanted to live with the guy to see if it was really good and if we would be comfortable in a marriage. It was better to get settled in beforehand. And I could use a man’s hand at home.
The day he arrived, Frank carried a million bags, no less, out of my car. He didn’t carry them himself, but he got me involved, because it was hard for him to do it alone. I had to get ready for his moving dinner, and I thought Frank would help, but he just sat there on the couch, threw his sneakers on the armrest, and watched TV.
It was logical to suppose that he was tired and that he wanted to watch everything, so I didn’t touch him. Initially we had not discussed cleaning the apartment in any way, and he promised to pay on time, I didn’t even ask him to do that. I thought that was a great sign – the man wanted to make it easier for us to live together. Even though he gave me clear receipts for the money, it didn’t get any easier.
Frank didn’t want to clean, he didn’t want to cook, he didn’t want to do the laundry, and when I offered to at least clean the toilet, he looked at me like that! As if I was a cleaner and he was paying me for it…
Okay, he works for the rent and to occasionally give me a meal from the delivery, but need to have a conscience and connect to the cleaning. I pay and clean and cook and don’t moan like he does when I ask him to at least dust the shelves.
I feel like I want to marry him less and less. It’s important to me that a man not have these silly preconceptions about “male” and “female” work. We’re all human, we should all be able to clean up after ourselves and cook for ourselves. After all, when I need to, I can hammer a nail myself, and what is Frank useful in married life?
