Three Inch Welcome Matt

There is a place that makes me feel happy, comfortable, at home, and loved. That place is roughly three square inches wide- the back edge of a trailer vanity top. There isn’t anything special about those square inches. It’s just a basic, plastic white top where I’ve placed two bottles of face wash and lotion. What makes me love those inches of space so much is who gave them to me. Let me tell you the story of how I found my second home and my wonderful boyfriend, Ryley.

A few weeks into dating Ryley, and I was already spending the night at his place very frequently. At first, I would just simply stay over, and then clean myself up when I got back home to my apartment. The days and days of leaving my makeup on through the night and not moisturizing was starting to take a toll on my skin. I knew needed to just bring along the skincare products with me whenever I went. A bit of a hassle, yes, but better than having a massive acne breakout. Night came and when we were winding down I pulled out my stuff, did my nighttime routine, and packed everything up again. He swapped places with me, started brushing his teeth, and casually told me, “You know, you can keep anything here that you need.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind just bringing it.”

Although, I did. I ride a motorcycle and it is never any fun to ride with a fully loaded backpack for a long time. (It would also take up space for the alcohol, snacks, or cheesy dollar store horror movies that we like to indulge in.) I gave the first polite declination of the offer but was secretly so happy that he made it.

He affirmed it, adding that, “I need to get you a toothbrush too.”

At the grocery store, I looked for the slimmest, most space-efficient bottles I could find, not wanting to be the stereotypical horror story girlfriend, who dominates her boyfriend’s living space once they start to get serious. And, because we were getting serious I was nervous in general. Keeping my things at his place increased the gravity of that feeling so that picking out the lotion and facewash was like picking out his and her wedding rings. Still, I bought them and strategically placed them in the most out-of-the-way three square inches I could find, asking sheepishly, “Is it okay if I put these here?”

The “okay” and the promised toothbrush were given to me and so that was where my personal products came to live.

As we spent more days and nights together I became more and more at home, even in the sense that sometimes we would just spend the day taping up foam padding to windows and around water pipes to insulate them, working on our computers doing individual projects, or pouring boiling water down the toilet to unfreeze the clogged pipes that froze because they weren’t insulated. He quickly became someone who made me feel happier just by being in my vicinity. By giving me that space on his vanity, he gave me more than an easier time of preventing an acne breakout. He gave me the permission to get closer to him which in turn helped me to experience what a wonderfully loving and kindhearted person he was.

Now, every night that I’m leaned over his sink rinsing my face and he gives my butt a little squeeze; every good night kiss when he says, “Mmm, you smell good” reminds me that I’m home and that tiny little vanity space is my welcome matt.