OBOSONTE

I met Ava at a friend’s barbecue. We talked for most of the night. She was easy to be around, sharp, a little guarded, the kind of person who laughed with her whole face when she forgot to hold back. A week later she texted first. We grabbed drinks. At the end of the night she said, clearly, “I’m not looking for anything serious right now. I just got out of something and I need space.” I told her that was fine. I meant it. We kept seeing each other anyway. Not every night, but enough. She’d come over, stay late, leave in the morning without making plans. Sometimes she’d rest her head on my chest while we watched something and stay there until the credits rolled. Other nights she’d pull away the second things felt too easy and remind me, almost gently, that this wasn’t going anywhere.

My girlfriend texted while I was still at the gym. “Don’t make plans tonight. Just come over.” We’ve been doing this for two months. She always says the same thing afterward, usually with her head on my chest. “This isn’t serious. I’m not looking for that.” I still went. She opened the door in one of my old t-shirts, the ones she keeps “borrowing.” The place smelled like the candle she only lights when I’m there. We didn’t talk much at first. She pulled me to the couch, climbed into my lap, and kissed me slow like she had all night.

My girlfriend, Sarah, and I were supposed to have a quiet Friday night in. She’d been talking about it all week. Just the two of us, no plans, no phones if we could help it. Around 4 p.m. my friend Stephen called. His car had broken down on the side of the highway and he needed a ride plus help getting it to a shop before they closed. I told Sarah. She was quiet for a second, then said, “It’s fine. Go help him. We can do our night another time.” I knew that tone. I still went. I got home a little after nine. The apartment was dark except for the kitchen light. Sarah was on the couch in one of my shirts, legs tucked under her, scrolling. She looked up when I walked in.

My girlfriend and I had plans to cook dinner together on Friday. Nothing fancy, just the two of us, some music, and the pasta she liked. Around noon she texted that her friend Jane had called. Jane was going through something and needed company. She asked if I minded if she went over for a few hours and came back later. I said of course not. She replied, “Thank you. You’re the best. I’ll make it up to you.” She left a little after three. I stayed home and started the sauce anyway, thinking she’d still be back by seven or eight. At 8:40 she texted that Jane was still upset and she didn’t want to leave her yet. “It’s fine if we do dinner tomorrow instead, right? I don’t want you waiting up.”

My boyfriend and I have been dating for about eight months, and honestly, things have been pretty good between us. We both have jobs, and whenever we go out or spend money together, we usually split everything 50/50. I never had a problem with that because I believe relationships should involve equal effort from both people. However, lately, I've started noticing something that is becoming increasingly frustrating whenever we go out to eat. My boyfriend always orders significantly more food than I do. He'll get an appetizer, a main course, several drinks, and sometimes dessert, while I'll usually just order one meal and maybe a drink. Despite that, he still expects us to divide the entire bill equally.