The other night, R leaned his head on my shoulder as we watched TV. He looked up at me with his…GREEN eyes. Or brown eyes. Green/brown eyes. We’ve been together for more than five years and before that moment, I could not have told you with any certainty what color his eyes were.
In my opinion, this is bad. In his words, “I know you love me.” I’m sure there was no hint of magnanimous superiority there at all. If there’s a point tally – which I would deny to any therapist but which we all know there is – I am definitely down one.
On the other side of it, I could tell you about every single pair of his shoes. I have no idea what this says about me. How can I be a bad girlfriend if I keep such good track of his footwear?
Displaced 
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