Letting Go

from Women in Manhattan

by John Patrick Shanley

There's a thing that can happen in a relationship. It's a kind of incredibly boring endless Mexican standoff over some idiot shit. You're in your trench and he's in his. Months can go by. It gets more and more deeply the same. I can't tell you how profoundly this kind of existence bites the big one.

Anyway, last night, I was thinking. I was thinking what if I could just let go. If I could just completely let go, what would I look like? Would Bob find that attractive? And while I was thinking this, I came to the realization that I was flooding the bed! I mean, cats and dogs. I thought I was dreaming. I saw Bob's face over me, like a big storm cloud. It got very cold. Like Bob was blocking out the sun or something, even though it was the middle of the night. I felt very small, like I was shrinking down into a dot.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me up. he said, "Listen! I don't give a fuck what you do! You can lay down and die for all I care! But nobody, nobody pisses in my bed!" And then he punched me... right in the eye. I saw stars, just like you're supposed to. And through the stars, I could hear him crying...

And what did I do? I just made love to him, and then... made him breakfast.