On Begging
In 1995, at 11:30pm, after a long day of helping my boyfriend, Frank host a garden party and then cleaning up for many hours into the late evening, what kept me going all those after hours when I was extremely exhausted was dreaming into curling up in his arms and relaxing in an all-night embrace. “I have a headache.” He growls at me in passing. “Here”, he says, with insistent conviction and determination, “throw this away at your house,” as he hands me a brown paper lunch bag of garbage, “my can is too full.” I stare at him blankly. He is no longer cordial. I felt in need of love, appreciation, and gratitude for all my hard work hosting, cleaning up, after a full day of decorating, setting up, serving, and tending to guests all afternoon, while offering upbeat greetings and delicious, meticulously prepared food, repeatedly clearing finished plates and refilling drinks. Even though his request feels weirdly unnecessary, my deflated heart and dejected ego ha...