No tea

Sometimes, for whatever reason, I don’t want tea.

Maybe the average man wants a cup of tea more often than me, I don’t know. It varies.

Today, you invited me for tea - well, you didn’t say that, but I suspected it. I came over ready for it, wanting to drink some hot tea because it had been a while. And yes, when I arrived you brought out the cups and the kettle.

And although the tea looked and smelled very tasty, which I’m sure it was, I suddenly didn’t feel like tea.

I said so. I tried to be polite about it, maybe that failed.

You turned around, shut me out, and muttered, “Same old song.”

I was hurt. Felt guilty about not wanting what men are said to want all the time, and apparently it’s inconceivable that sometimes I don’t.

I love tea. I love having tea with you. But sometimes I don’t feel like tea, and it’s not because of you, or the tea; I don’t love you or it any less in those moments.

It hurts, both me and you, that my ‘no’ is unacceptable.