a fifty seventh story...'where the trouble is'

Mitch is a kid.  He’s a fully grown kid with all the characteristics adults leave behind when they get older.  Sure, he’s cute, fun, and he can make people laugh, but he doesn’t listen, can’t manage his money, and thinks that being in love is a definite state.  He doesn’t get it.  He thinks because he loves me, I should love him just the same, except that’s impossible because I spend half the time looking after him, and he gets annoyed when I tell him to do something, or anything.  Also he thinks because we are in love, we will spend the rest of our lives together – he’s never said as much, but I can tell: the casual references to the future, five, ten years on, along with flirtatious caresses, hugs, when he squeezes my knee, strokes my hair.  You get the picture. 

He’s a kid.  Full stop.  Touching a woman is still daring to him, and though he’s not shy in bed anymore, nor is he too bothered what I get out of it.  He’s spoiled you see, his parents, filthy rich.  He’s always gotten what he wanted, always.  And so he pays no attention to anyone else.  The touching thing, for example, he’ll touch me, hug me, stroke me (!) when he wants to, when it makes him feel good; he thinks I am one of his cats, or at least I get that impression sometimes.  When I’m in the mood, and sure, every now and again I am – Mitch could stir any girl’s fancy, and he still does mine I admit after one or two drinks – he pets me too long, takes him ages to get down to business.  Really, I think he thinks I am the human incarnation of his cat!  And we all know what they say about bestiality!  Even Mitch!!

I love Mitch, yes, I’ll say that.  But love is complicated in itself, right?  It doesn’t mean you want to be together from cradle to grave.  People need space; we’re all individuals I’ve read, and John Lennon for one said we should all be our own leaders.  Me, I am an independent woman, and a proud one too.  I have a job that pays, or rather keeps the boat afloat, what with Mitch’s spending, and I like to think I’m doing alright by me.  Thing is, and it’s becoming a bigger thing, sorry to say, Mitch is doing alright by me too, and only by me.  He’s a kid, I’m a grown up, or a decent approximation.  That’s where the trouble is.