This gets its on post.
So, the night of prom, DD announces as we're drinking Mickey's and chatting that he remembered to bring a toothbrush and deodorant over. I'm the first in the mornings to jump up and brush my teeth to avoid the dread morning breath kisses, so I think it's sweet he's returning the favor.
"Well, good, now you won't be the stinky morning guy," I crack with a smile.
The next morning, after prom, as we're brushing our teeth with our (okay just MY) ridiculous morning hair, our (okay MY) smudged make-up and with the shaky legs that come after a GOOD night, I have a moment where I glance down into my bathroom trashcan and my eyes rivet to a strange sight. I realize there is toothbrush packaging in my trash can.
I spit toothpaste, rinse, and look back at the trashcan to make sure I'm looking at what I think I'm looking at. When I look up to question DD, I find that I'm looking up at the exact moment that he's putting his BRAND NEW TOOTHBRUSH in my toothbrush holder.
I freeze for a moment, trying to absorb what has just happened.
"Oh, it's STAYING here," I blurt out sensitively and astutely.
He smiles at me, but it's a little tentative.
"Is that okay?" he asks, reaching for his deodorant which he also takes the packaging off of.
Oh, THAT'S STAYING here too!?!?
I recover quickly.
"Yup. Yup. Totally okay," I say, finding that it both IS and IS NOT.
I look at the blue CVS toothbrush hanging out with my green dentist toothbrush in my toothbrush holder.
I've had boyfriends. I've had sex. I've had friends with benefits. I've dated people.
I have never had another toothbrush in my toothbrush holder.
"Are you going to freak out?" he asks, putting his deodorant down in what he has determined will be his deodorant's home on my bathroom counter.
"Nope," I say quickly, still eye-ing the toothbrush.
He laughs. "Okay, you can freak out after I leave. In the meantime, you're going to have to stop staring at the toothbrush."
I smile and retreat from the bathroom in order to stop staring at the alien toothbrush.
It makes SENSE. He's spending at least 3 nights a week here. He shouldn't have to be stinky. I appreciate that he's NOT going to be stinky. I LIKE him being in house that much (which is WEIRD). It doesn't bother me that it's his - it bothers me, for whatever illogical reason, in principle.
Every time I walk by the bathroom that day, I give the toothbrush the stink eye.
I talk to any friend that will listen about it.
"There's a TOOTHBRUSH in my bathroom," I exclaim to friends that are married or have boyfriends and to which this is not that big of a friggin deal.
Everyone either wonders if he's moving too fast on me or if I feel like I didn't have a say in the appearance of the toothbrush. I can't seem to explain that I don't mind that it's his toothbrush that is there. That feels okay. I will be fine when he spend that night this week that he has a toothbrush in my bathroom.
It's something greater - something that I find especially as I recount this from a week and a half later.
It's the first sign of someone encroaching on my independence...on my space. It's a strange sense of territory akin to the likes of which I have never experienced.
"Let's talk about this toothbrush," I say for the fiftieth time to my sister and her friend over a lunch at Chipotle with my son after toddler gymnastics.
"What's going on?" my sister's friend asks innocently.
"My sister is Mr. Big," my sister deadpans unforgivingly. "Get over it."
Why am I the GUY all of a sudden? I was the clingy GIRL in my one and only significant relationship but suddenly I'm the one playing my emotions close to the vest, I'm the one freaking out about someone leaving STUFF at my place.
Luckily, I'm still girl enough that I have to tell everybody about it. This is heartening.
I still put the toothbrush in a drawer for a solid 24 hours.
It's a process.
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