The Tale of Two Buddies

Or, "The Saga of the Sheets"

I had just gotten out of the shower and answered the door in my bathrobe. I threw the sheets on the bed and said he could put them on while I finished getting ready. He said, “You’re assuming I know how.” I turned and looked at him and said, “Never mind, I’ll do it when I’m done. Just have a seat.” I was kind of bewildered in my head, thinking, “Damn right, I assume you know how to put on a bed sheet, you’re in your 30s.” But I kept focused and finished getting myself ready.

When I was done, I came into the bedroom and started putting on the fitted sheet. He apologized for not doing it. I said, “That’s okay. I can do it.” And then jokingly added, “I’m a strong, independent woman.” To which he replied, “I’m a weak, dependent man.” We both paused and he said, “I wish I were joking.”

I was “smh” (shaking my head) in my head, if that makes sense, marveling at the negative thinking in this man’s head. As I fought with the pillow case, I was going to toss one to him to do, but couldn’t find the case. Probably for the best. I fished the case out of the dryer and did it myself. I was trying to talk as positively as I could during all of this. The ying to his dark, gloomy yang. The Tigger to his Eeyore. The manic to his depressive.

He finally came out and said he was a pessimist. I said I was an optimist and smiled. What a change in my mood and demeanor, I thought, somewhere, in the back of my brain. He said we were like the premise for an indie film. Two people who meet online to become fuck buddies; one the ultimate pessimist, the other an overly positive optimist who helps the pessimist turn his life around. I told him he should write it, he is a writer after all. Then I point to the decal on my wall. It says, “Life is Beautiful.” He is not moved. I said, “You’re not buying it are you?” “Nah.” I laugh. Not sure if he did or not.

This is all so beautifully ironic because I barely know how to put on a bed sheet myself. I often start with it the wrong way. I am horrible with making the bed. Even when I do it, it looks like a preschooler did it. And I couldn't get a flat sheet tucked neatly in a bed, ever, which is the task I think he thought I was asking him to perform. (When he saw me doing the fitted sheet is when he said, “Oh, I could’ve done that.”) Up until about two months ago, I had a good deal of negative self-talk going on in my brain. It was almost like seeing a version of myself from the not so distant past. Seeing how much negative thoughts affect your life is sobering. I had even beat myself up for not being a great homemaker. Here now, my skills as a homemaker had not improved, but I was still able to accomplish the task. It may not have been fantastic, but I did it. There was now a sheet on my bed, wrinkled and all. I didn't doubt for one second that I could do it. And if something were to have happened and I wouldn't have been able to get it on the bed, I wouldn't have thrown my hands up in despair saying, “I’m so stupid.” (Which is what he did upon getting lost to our first meeting.) Or, “This is who I am, I’m never going to change.” (Which he said when I pointed out his negative self-talk.)

I’m so proud of how far I’ve come. This experience just reignited my commitment to stay positive and mentally healthy. My thoughts are powerful. I have to speak to myself kindly, as I would to others. Because that’s just the kind of positive, optimistic person I am ;-) 

Update: the pessimist has entered into mental health treatment. Hopefully, it will help.