Years ago, on a Sunday morning, I was changing my bed sheets. I asked the person I was dating at the time if he would give me a hand for a second. He said, in an irritated tone, I'd rather fuckin' not." He wasn't doing anything particularly important, he was sipping a coffee I had brought to him, and scrolling through Facebook. I'd waited until he was out of bed before I went to change the sheets. I finished changing the sheets, I didn't say anything, but there were a few tears streaming down my cheeks. I cry too easily, I know. He was so emotionally distant. He treated me as an inconvenience. His hatred for me was palpable. I don't know why he stayed with me as long as he did. I brought him coffee every morning, just a small act that I hoped he would recognize as love. I think he did recognize it. But he just didn't love me back. And that's okay.
But I still think about it, every time I change my sheets.