“You know what they say…” I paused to look at their faces. Both of them looked at me curios – hopeful, maybe.
“What was that again?” I scratched my nose, hesitating once I realized that I got it wrong but decided to continue. “He hopes she will change; She, on the other hand, hopes he will never change!”
My sister pressed her lips against an almost-empty wine glass, thinking.
“He indeed tries to change me now…” She took her time, finished reminding wine, and then said bitterly: “You drink too much, smoke too much…” Her laughter was dry, eyes traveled from me to the boyfriend’s face. “I told you at the beginning. I am messy, I like to party, I am selfish…”
“I thought you would change,” the boyfriend interrupted her humorously, and we all burst out laughing.
The quote I was referring to, is believed to come out of Albert Einstein’s mouth, has precisely the opposite meaning. If the internet is right, it goes as follows:
Women marry men hoping they will change, and men marry women hoping they will not. So each is inevitably disappointed.”
Of course, women had to play the role of sneaky bitches waiting to catch men and, once victims are trapped, reveal real faces.
I couldn’t agree less with the accusation, but I also could see how I, as well as some of the women (not all of them) I knew, acted from time to time…
Yesterday I woke up next to my beloved boyfriend. The sun was quite high up already as we slept in. It was weekend, so who cares?
“I’ll make you coffee. You stay in bed” James whispered cuddling me.
I enjoyed smooches until he stopped, attempting to get up.
“No, no, no. You stay. I’ll make coffee,” I muttered, pulling him back to bed. We snuggled for a short while, then I jumped off the bed and waddled to the kitchen. I placed some water and ground coffee into respected containers of a Moka pot, set it up, and waited.
Meanwhile, I talked to cats: Salmon and Tuna, who live in my apartment. I managed to hug and kiss Salmon – a tiny ginger cat, but failed twice, trying to show my love to Tuna. Tuna is a big boy, twice size bigger than Salmon and only a few days older, who really, really doesn’t like cuddles, especially when a third party could see it. I believe that the world would have been a better place if Tuna let pick himself up and snuggle for a wee bit.
When the pot started making a characteristic gurgling sound, I removed it from the heat and poured dark, aromatic liquid into two cups. I added a splash of oat milk to one mug and carried both of them to the bedroom.
“Here you are” I passed the black coffee to my boyfriend.
“You are the best! Thank you” James looked up from his phone, smiling at me. With a smile on my lips, I turned and left the bedroom. It wouldn’t kill you if once a while you made coffee too. A vicious voice sounded in my head. I chased it away. “He offered.” I knew it. The voice seemed to know it too.
I could feel by then that something was wrong, or if it wasn’t yet it definitely will be.
I said something to James, he didn’t react, so I got angry that “he never listens to me,” which wasn’t right. I burned baguettes by keeping them too long at too high temperature but got upset because my boyfriend didn’t smell it when he went to the living room (connected to the kitchen).
Although I was aware it was not okay to pick on James, I couldn’t control my temper. I was edgy, uneasy. Everything annoyed me. Not everything in him but EVERYTHING in the world.
I apologized; my patient boyfriend said, “it’s okay. I can see you’re struggling” (what irritated me, but I suppressed it) and left to the gym. I hoped a good workout would help. It probably did, however, this unpleasant feeling stayed. I snapped at an innocent guy who offered to clean my car when I parked in the mall; I rolled eyes dozens of times since I left home until I got back irked by random people I met.
I entered the apartment in a slightly worst mood than I left. Even though the workout helped, small, not important incidents hurt, with the cherry on the cake – my reflection in a mirror in the elevator. It’s not possible to gain 50kg overnight, yet, you have managed it. The vicious voice commented, which I totally agreed with adding: and 50 times uglier.
“Hi, babe. How was the gym?” James greeted me cheerfully. He was chilling on the sofa with his mobile phone in hand.
“I don’t know” I muttered. He looked at me with a mixture of surprise and confusion hiding in his eyes. I sighed. “I went for a fitness class” I tried to turn my harsh talks into a joke.
“Youuuu,” he laughed heartily. “Come here…”
“Gotta shower” I smiled weakly and left the room. I didn’t want him to touch my super-sized body.
On my way to the bathroom, I gazed into the bedroom. He made the bed. Damn it! I didn’t have to wait long to find a reason to get even more miffed.
Long story short, that day ended up with me shouting and sobbing in the car on the way back home from the beach. I couldn’t understand my feelings, this massive pain and anger inside of me, and I felt silly to talk about it as I didn’t know how to explain it.
Luckily my boyfriend is patient and supportive. I somehow survived that day without any significant damage, but I swear it was so, so close…
PMS, premenstrual syndrome, is a common condition that affects the majority of women. It reflects on our emotions, behavior, psychical health. I do believe that it’s okay to once a while be a bitch, but it’s crucial to look for support during this challenging time. In this case, even more important than self-understanding, is acceptance and compassion of the society.
So if this time of the month has came and you are feeling like a bitch, remember that you can always bitch about it to your close ones. 🤟🏼