My Love Affair with Paper Towel: Breaking up is Hard to Do

First off, let me start by saying that I’m happily married. However, I do confess to a love affair with Paper Towel, herein referred to as “Pato” (Pä’tō, like the duck in Pocoyo).

I knew Pato for what seemed like my whole life. We always traveled in the same circles. To be honest, in the beginning, I took Pato for granted. Everywhere I went, Pato was there. As I got older and my world got messier, I turned to Pato more and more. We became more than just acquaintances and our friendship progressed.

Then, my first son was born and something changed. I fell head over heels madly in love with Pato. Blame it on the hormones, I guess. Baby spit up, Pato to the rescue. Spilled milk in the kitchen, Pato was all over it. Quick cleaning chores for dead-tired Mom: Pato at the ready. You get the idea. Thus began the “honeymoon phase” of our affair. Oh, we were never exclusive, of course; me being married and all, plus I knew that other women adored Pato the same way I did. We carried on until well after my second son was born. Pato came and went as always and I was happy with Pato, or so I thought.

Then something happened. We were staying with our friends out-of-town and there were four adults and four kids in one house. You know how it goes. The inevitable mess happened and I scrambled around, looking for Pato.

“Where’s Pato?” I asked my friend, anxiously searching her counter top.

“Oh, I don’t like Pato,” she replied breezily.

I was flabbergasted. My mind was reeling, “What? She doesn’t like Pato? A mom with two little ones of her own – how could she not love Pato? Uh-oh, she’s really lost it.”

“Er-what’s not to like?” I asked hesitantly.

“Too expensive. Wasteful. Pato’s bad for the environment. I don’t need Pato.”

I almost choked. Then the rationalizations started, “She doesn’t know Pato like I know Pato. Pato’s different when we’re alone.” But the damage had been done. If she didn’t like Pato, maybe my other friends didn’t like Pato, either. Hmmm, maybe Pato wasn’t so great, after all. And just like that, Pato fell off the pedestal and the honeymoon was over.

Then the nitpicking started. One day after getting home from the warehouse store, I realized that Pato was taking up a lot of valuable real estate in the pantry. Pato was just too darn big. If only Pato would change. No, that’s impossible and I sadly realized that it wasn’t Pato: it was me. I was changing and outgrowing Pato.

I distanced myself from Pato. Pato went from the counter straight into the closet. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Not really. The relationship had turned dysfunctional and when I felt like I didn’t have any other options, I turned again and again to Pato.

I know that I have to let Pato go completely but, as I mentioned in a previous post, I have boundary issues so to drop Pato entirely seems harsh. Hey, Pato and I have been through a lot together and Pato was a big part of my life. You think I’m just using Pato now but honestly, that’s not the case. I downgraded our relationship to dating. No, really, I wrote a date on Pato (August 27, 2012, exactly) and I count how many days I can go without Pato. So far, so good.

It’s an adjustment getting used to life without Pato. I still think of Pato on a regular basis and I compare all my other options to Pato. I haven’t found my perfect Pato replacement but I’m out there looking and I have hope. The one thing I know; it takes time to recover from a break-up.