Once upon a time, my new boyfriend Jesse moved in with me. He told me that it was the most practical decision because it would allow us to be with each other as much as possible and save on rent. I had never lived his any of my boyfriends in the past, so I was hesitant at first to agree with him. However, he eventually got me with his sweet gestures and promises of forever. Mind you, we were only dating for a month at the time.
Since the relationship was still new, everything felt hot and exciting whenever I did it with Jess. We practically acted like newlyweds for a few months (without the legal papers and all that jazz, of course). We cooked and cleaned together all the time and made love in every part of the house. We could not be more in love than ever.
When the honeymoon phase died down, that was when I saw another side of Jesse.
Trouble In Paradise
I realized after a few months of living with Jesse that he loved his alcohol. He always suggested popping a bottle of wine after dinner all the time, and I would indulge him sometimes. I thought that sharing wine with your partner was romantic, and I was all for romance.
However, when the pandemic came and Jesse lost his job when his company filed for bankruptcy, he began drinking more. One glass turned to three; a quarter of a bottle a day soon turned to a full one. Worse, he hid his new drinking habits from me for a while.
I guess it was not too challenging to do, considering I passed out in bed at precisely 9:00 PM on weekdays. Jesse would go to bed with me, but I would not know if he slept or not. I was used to him getting up only after I had already gone to work, so I suspected nothing.
However, the truth got revealed when my bladder woke me up in the middle of the night one time. I looked to my right and found Jesse’s side of the bed empty. The bathroom was unoccupied, so I went out to search for him. I saw him in the living room, hugging an empty bottle of whiskey, clearly drunk.
I felt shaken by this revelation, to be honest. Jesse knew that I did not want to date someone who loved downing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s in one sitting. My dad did that, and the alcohol messed him up so badly that he turned out violent in the end. Still, since I did not see signs of that in Jesse yet, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and a chance to come clean with me.
Unfortunately, Jesse continued to pretend that he was sober for weeks, even when I finally found his stash of empty whiskey bottles, and the couch started to reek of alcohol. I decided to confront him once and for all when I woke up one morning and saw that he could not even bother to hide the evidence in the living room anymore.
Jesse was apologetic when I talked to him that day, but then I was surprised when he started blaming me for it. He said things like, “You always go to bed early” and “You don’t know my hardships because you got to keep your job.” I would not have any of that because I had been covering Jesse’s part of the rent ever since he lost his job. It was not my fault either that I got to keep mine, and he didn’t.
I lost my respect for Jesse that day and packed his bags, and made him leave. He refused to do so initially, but I technically owned the lease to that apartment, so he had no claims over it.
Getting A Unique Advice From A Counselor
When Jesse was finally gone in my life, I assumed that I would regain my peace of mind. However, a month already passed, and I still felt troubled, so I contacted a counselor for some assistance.
The counselor listened to me patiently for two whole hours. When I asked her what I could do to hopefully give myself some relief while counseling, she suggested redecorating my room.
“Why my room only?” I asked.
“Well, that’s where you shared a lot of intimate memories with your ex-boyfriend. Since he technically did not do you harm, you might still remember and miss him subconsciously whenever you’re in the bedroom.”
This suggestion made a lot of sense, so I hired an interior decorator to help me out. I did not have much preference on how my room should look like, but I wanted the bed frame, the paint on the walls, and even the floors changed. After a couple of weeks, I entered my newly dolled-up bedroom.
I did not know how it worked but seeing that my entirely different room gave me a sense of tranquility. I did not see anything that would remind me of my failed relationship, which made me happy.
With my new bedroom and the counseling treatment that I continued to receive, I regained myself.