Wed been together for six months, that sweet period when every little flaw seems charming and the future glows with promise. I used to think Edward was nearly perfect: clever, successful, well-read, always impeccably turned out. Our weekends were spent in cosy cafes around London, strolling Hyde Park, chatting about films or art exhibits, and it truly seemed like we saw the world through the same lens.
But soon, cracks began to show. Where I imagined a relationship built on genuine partnership, he viewed it as a shortcut to convenience.
The conversation about moving in happened during an ordinary dinner at mine in Islington. He was pouring me a cup of tea, when out of the blue he said, Look, weve both had enough of shuttling across the city. Paying for two flats is daft. Lets live together. Find a nice two-bed closer to the centre.
My smile came easy; Id been gently hinting at this. But his next words made my hands freeze around my cup.
Lets settle a few ground rules first, he said briskly, sounding for all the world like he was negotiating a business contract, not building a life together. Were modern people. I think the budget should be splitseparate finances, but we go halves on everything. Rent, bills, groceries: fifty-fifty.
Fair dos, I thought. Equality means equality.
And how about housework? I asked, expecting the same reasonable division.
Edward gave a nervous little laugh, then grinned as though hed just paid me a compliment. Oh, well, that sort of things in your bones, isnt it? Youre the womanso cooking, cleaning, laundry, thats more your area. Im happy to take the bins out or put up a shelf if its falling down, when I fancy. But the main work? Thats down to you. You want to be the lady of the house, dont you?
A heavy silence settled. I stared at him, trying to piece together this new picture.
Why pay for a cleaner when youve got a girlfriend?
I didnt argue. I decided to reply in his own terms.
Edward, I hear you, I said, holding my nerve. You want the finances sorted, and thats reasonable. Youd like a proper hometasty dinners, pressed shirts, spotless floors. But I work full-time too. I dont have the energy or will to spend my evenings running a hotel for two.
He tensed, but kept listening.
So, I have a counter-offer, I continued. If were splitting the expenses, lets be civilised. We hire a cleaner twice a weekcleaning, ironing, batch-cooking. We split the cost. That way the place stays lovely, neither of us is worn out. Ill handle the touches that make it feel like homecandles, choosing the curtains.
His face shiftedconfusion, then annoyance, and finally, a cool detachment. I could practically hear the mental calculator whirring, and it was clear he didnt like the final sum.
Why have a stranger in the flat? He pulled a face. More pointless costs. Youre a womansurely its not so hard cooking for your bloke? Thats caring, not work.
Funny, I thought, how when you put a price on womens work, it suddenly turns into love and nature. Cooking dinner is care, paying for groceries is commerce.
Edward, I said softly, if Im making dinner after an eight-hour shift while youre on the PlayStation or watching telly, that isnt careits exploitation. If were running separate budgets, we split everything. Either the chores are shared, or we bring in help and pay evenly. But Im not doing double-duty and paying the same as you.
That finished the conversation. We ate in brittle silence. He told me hed think about it.
The next day there was no familiar Good morning text. That evening, just a curt note about working late. By the third day, hed gone darkno calls, nothing.
A week later, a mutual friend said, He says you broke up because youre all about money and not the domestic type. That youre just not cut out for married life.
It stung. Half a year together, hopes, illusions. But after the pain came a strange lightness.
His silence was answer enough. He hadnt wanted mehed wanted a convenient, ready-made cosy nest where his own effort wasnt required.
Edward vanishedand thank heavens for that. I hired a cleaner for myself. Now, I come home to a tidy flat, brew a cup of tea, and realise what bliss it is not to pour yourself out for someone who doesnt value you.
