I wonder sometimes if the reason we are not married is because I moved in with him after only two years of dating. I wonder if we will never get married because I have no leverage. The old: why buy the cow when you get the milk for free, deal. But then I think, to hell with that, I am so thankful we live together because if we didn't we would have already missed out on so much tenderness. The tenderness that comes when two people share a space. For instance, I love to hear T in the shower. The sound calms me. The company and the silence of it. Like rain, but not. It is the comfort of cleanliness. The godliness of it all, the holiness, the rebirth. I know soon he will turn the water off, shake his hair, wipe his body, and step out. I know he will smell of soap. The sound is what I like best, even now the way it fills these walls with liquid, with music and it's constance. The sound is best.
So tonight when he steps out of the shower I will tell him that I do have leverage. I will wait to say this until he is dry and in his comfy sweats. And I will challenge him to a rematch, I will tell him I have leverage because he watches me sleep at night, because he washes the dishes after I make him dinner, because he does these things that you only do, if you are a man who means them. It's not just the sound the shower makes, it's love and that's my lever. I will tell him what Archimedes said "Give me a lever long enough and a place to stand and I will move the entire earth". I will tell him this and then I will flip him over my shoulder.
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