toss the ramen, save the friendship

my roommate lives off of beer, whiskey, and ramen. i wish i were exaggerating. he's pretty good about drinking his beers to the last drop, and he can be counted on to take care of other people's wounded soldiers. he'll suck whiskey bottles dry. but after he eats ramen, food remains. i don't mean to say he habitually wastes half of the ramen he cooks. no—he makes double recipes but only uses one flavor packet.

me? i don't like letting food go to waste. so i've been picking up these packets he leaves behind. i think, "i could use them in stir-fry, rice porridge, as a soup base..." and i have. there's just one big problem: he eats one or more double recipes a day. so they've been piling up.

this represents the difference between how fast he produces leftover packets and how fast i can use them. at least for the first few months.

though i stopped collecting new ones (except to replace ones i use—which has kept the total static for a while), i've held on to these flavor packets all this time. that changes today.

i've realized that i hold on to a lot more than just flavor packets in this relationship. i hold on to debts, the times i've felt cheated, the hope that i can change him—none of which are healthy. so i'm going to throw out those ramen seasoning packets. i'm going to forget that all of my beer disappeared while i was at work last night. no, really! the only way this friendship can live is if i let the past go, start fresh, and don't try to make my friend into something he's not, nor expect him to become that way on his own.

i should stop being a doormat, you say? i shouldn't let people take advantage of me? well, i don't have to. and i don't plan to. i can get mad about his stealing shit from me—i just can't hold on to the rage or resentment that usually go along with it. believe me, i have some strong words for him about my 5 hand-picked-from-the-liquor-store beers (not having a car, i can't really get to the liquor store very often).

time to be more assertive!