A POEM by ERIN ROSEN
Ode
Matt calls the wads of hair that collect in my shower drain “hair monsters” and doesn’t understand why I leave them on the side of the tub instead of putting them in the trash. (I have my reasons.) Matt inexplicably poured a carton of sour milk out in the backyard and now the dog won’t stop asking to go out so she can lick it. Matt tells me to page him when he really means text him because we are both teenagers of the 90s. On our first date, a one-legged reptile vendor pressured Matt into holding a small snake, which he did not like at all; I willingly held a large one, though I admit that its muscular squirming unsettled me. Matt tells me that all the men I’m attracted to, including him, look like potatoes, so I bought a t-shirt that says POTATOES, which made him laugh. Matt ate all the chocolate-covered almonds but bought me more when I complained. One night in bed I asked Matt to sing me a song, and the song he chose was “Old Dan Tucker.” Matt doesn’t like to cuddle at night because he gets too hot, but sometimes he rams his arm under my pillow anyway and pulls me to him. I have designated one block on our morning walk as the Complaining Block because Matt is not a morning person and I can only take so much grumbling that early in the day. Matt still carries around a list of Ways to Be Romantic that I wrote for him early in our relationship, but rarely remembers to look at it. Matt doesn’t really need to look at it anymore, because we’ve developed our own love patois: reruns of Dallas, wine and grilled meat (the fastest way into my pants, according to him), the retrieval of snacks from the kitchen when we are in front of the basement TV, a surprised yelp when one of us drops a towel down the laundry chute while the other is sorting clothes and the cackle that comes in response. If Matt and I had known each other when we were both depressed teenagers, maybe we could have created a tender refuge. Matt and I are middle-aged and we are creating it now.
Erin Rosen (she/her) is a writer and therapist. Her writing has appeared in Taco Bell Quarterly, Autofocus, and elsewhere. Additionally, a photo of the back of her head once appeared on the front page of the New York Times. She is currently working on a memoir. She lives in Louisville, KY with her partner and Boston terrier. Follow her on Bluesky: @rosenwrites.bsky.social.