In the dream, we were living in a little two-bedroom house with a porch, and it was early evening, and I was trying to decide whether to cook dinner. You had texted me telling me that on your way home, you were going to make a stop because your friend Corinne had some shoes at her grandmother’s house that she thought might fit you. Apparently her grandfather had died and left a bunch of very large vintage shoes. I didn’t remember you ever mentioning a Corinne, but I know you know a lot of people, and like vintage things, so I was like, “OK” and didn’t think much of it.
You took a little while getting home, which was fine, but then I realized that you had her with you. I was mildly irked that you’d brought by a guest without mentioning it first, but I was willing to let it go and be happy to meet your friend.
You told me that she had been in town moving her grandmother into a nursing home and clearing out all of the stuff in the house, so there was no furniture for her to sleep on there, and asked if she could crash in our spare bedroom for the night before she traveled back to wherever it is she was from. I figured why not, and brainstormed with the two of you what you might want for dinner.
I felt a little sorry for your friend, losing her grandfather and having to deal with all that stuff on her own. She seemed really young, maybe 22 or 23, and looked like a cross between…if
Maritza from OITNB was mixed with Kelly but had red hair—a white girl with wavy red hair that is as fluffy as Kelly’s and a slightly less pronounced butt chin. I thought she was pretty, if too young to ever mess with.
Anyway, so we decided on dinner stuff, and rather than make all of us go to the store, I said I would just run out and grab the stuff we were missing. But when I came through the front door, you were lying across her lap, facing up, completely naked and she was running her hand up and down your body. I froze, bag of groceries in hand, not sure what to do but suddenly panicking.
I told you that we needed to talk, and you scampered away and got into your pajamas and came back to talk while we put away groceries. I asked you what the hell was happening, at this point steaming mad because a) you’d brought someone over without giving me heads up, b) you hadn’t given me any inkling that you were interested in this person, and c) you just sprang a situation on me by my having to walk in on it, completely taking me off guard and then making it awkward because the other person is literally in the next room while we have to talk about it.
You started explaining yourself by giving the excuse that we have a stipulation that if a “strike while the iron is hot” situation comes up, we could take it, and she’d confessed a crush on you and you knew she was going back to wherever it is she was from the next morning, so you thought I’d understand if this was your only chance to hook up with this hot chick.
And I couldn’t believe that you thought that such a situation would apply in our house and without our talking about it—like a chance to hook up with someone was somehow totally valued over my comfort if it were the only chance. Like hurting me and a whirlwind of drama was worth having a single transitory experience.
And I especially resented knowing that she now had nowhere else to stay, AND you’d told her that we had an open relationship so it would be cool with me, so if I tried to change/enforce something now, I’d look like the crazy bitch.
And you moved on to telling me that I should be happy for you, that you were getting this limited time experience. We have a separate bedroom just for this purpose, so why not employ it. And you know how I feel about being told how I “should” feel.
And so I was like...communication is the answer here...I'm just going to go communicate to her calmly.
And so I went into the other room, and I was like, "Look. I know none of this is your fault. You’ve done nothing wrong here—there was just a misunderstanding between he and I, and you’ve ended up in the middle of it. I am very upset right now, but I’m not upset with you. You’ll have to pardon any tension that you feel in the air—I know it must be awkward for you—but I’ll set you up in the spare bedroom, and hopefully you can get a good night’s sleep.
And so I get her all set up in the room, and you want to go in and say goodnight to her, and you’re taking way too long. When I crack the door, you’re cuddling her and whispering to her. And I feel “stern mom tone” creeping into my voice, and I’m like, “You need to come out here so we can talk NOW, or you’re not going to be able to dig yourself out of the trouble you’re causing.”
And you let out a martyred sigh and give her a look like “sorry she’s a pain in the ass” and slink out to talk to me.
And so we’re in the living room, whisper-arguing, and you’re still defending yourself. And I’m bringing up how young she is, and how could one novel experience POSSIBLY be worth all this trouble. And you’re arguing back that you haven’t even hooked up with anyone else in a long time, so why should this one night even matter in the scheme of things, and it’s getting really ugly.
We hear a noise, and it’s her creeping out with a pack of cigarettes in her hand, heading for the porch. We don’t know how much she’s heard, but we have to sit there, awkwardly, both stewing, while she finishes smoking and comes back inside and goes back to bed.
At that point my alarm went off, and I have never been so happy to wake up in my entire life!