The Teddy Bear Diaries

[Alex Bridges]

My teddy bear and I had a bit of a #metoo moment. We’re not sure whose fault it was. Some harsh words exchanged. He told me to watch where I’m sitting. I told him to watch where he’s putting his paws.

 

He’s in the washing machine right now. I told him to take the time to think about what he’s done. He was fine with it. I think he wanted the time alone to process, cool down, collect his thoughts.

 

We’ll be okay eventually. Couples have fights, ya know. They get through them. You don’t share a blankie as long as we have without working through some issues. 

 

————-

 

So apparently this may not blow over. I got home and he was giving me the silent treatment, so I got a bit upset and asked what he was still so mad about. I thought this was over. He said I violated his consent, and I said, are we still on this? It happened, we each share some blame, it was an accident. I said sorry; he said sorry, so what is he all mad about again. 

 

No, he said. It’s not that. It’s that I’ve been walking around naked with him in the room since we first got together. And I said, so? That’s never bothered you before. And besides, couples are naked in front of each other. What, I’m supposed to ask him to leave the room every time I get out of the shower. And, he’s a teddy bear. He’s never worn clothes in his life. What are we even talking about?

 

And he said he didn’t know that I should have asked for his consent. Where did you learn that, I asked, because it was the first time I’d ever heard of asking your bear for permission to get dressed in your own damn bedroom. I mean, maybe I’m not up to speed on what’s considered okay, but I’m willing to learn. I want to learn, so I asked him again, where did he learn that.. And he tossed a magazine on the table about some erstwhile celebrity.

 

Then he got even more upset while I read a few sentences and said it was my responsibility to be aware of these things and to take care of him just like he takes care of me. I am, he said, just a bear after all.

 

So I didn’t take that accusation very well. I keep a roof over his head, I rearrange his stuffing when it starts to get lumpy. I take very, very good care of my bear. I give plenty in this relationship. So I snapped at him and said, yeah, and it’s my house and you are just a bear. Which I admit was an asshole thing to say, but my day had been long and this was not what I wanted to come home to.

 

Anyway, he grabbed our blankie and slammed the door to the guest room behind him. I don’t know. This doesn’t feel like it’s gonna blow over. I don’t know.

 

This bed feels so empty with just me in it.

 

—————

 

Well, it was kinda frosty at home for about a week. A lot of silent dinners. He made fish four nights. He knows I don’t like fish. Today, though, when I got home he said he wanted to try couple’s counseling, and I instantly agreed. Ya know, I want this relationship to work. I need this relationship to work. I can’t go back to Bear Bumble. It’s terrible. I don’t wanna be single again. I want my bear, period. We said forever, and I meant it. If we had some repair work to do on our relationship, give me a hammer.

 

He wanted to pick the therapist, which I was fine with, and then he said a friend referred him to a great therapist, a Dr. Bananas, and I wanted to object because, honestly, I didn’t think I could get a fair shake from a therapist that was also a stuffy. I know therapy isn’t supposed to be adversarial, right. There are no sides. Or that’s what they say, but I went in there thinking this Dr. Bananas was just going to blame it all on me, all on the the man, and tell my bear to move on with his life.

 

When we go there, though, it turned out Dr. Bananas was a bonobo stuffy, and I don’t know what you guys know about bonobos, but definitely not the species you wanna have a conversation about consent with. 

 

Sex sex sex sex! That’s all they do. You’re having a fight? Skip to the makeup sex. You’re not having a fight? Well, then why aren’t ya having sex? Some seriously depraved apes.

 

And my bear had no idea about bonobos because he is just a bear, but the look on his face when that “therapist” gave his “advice,” I mean, it was like instant clarity. This bonobo had zero interest in understanding us. For one thing, couldn’t even fathom why my bear was upset with me. The notion of consent did not compute for this bonobo, and not because he didn’t understand permission but because he couldn’t understand why anyone would say no to nudity. Bonobos just don’t do that. For another, he and I don’t have that kind of relationship. We’re close, but we ain’t that kinda close, if you know what I mean. Bonobos are incestuous, for fuck’s sake!

 

We were outta there in under ten minutes. Neither of us said a word in the car. I was thinking, this is it. He’s soured on the whole thing; gonna give up on couples therapy, and by this time next week, I’ll come home to find a note on the table and the box of spare stuffing gone. 

 

But we got home, and he got a drink of water, and he’s standing over the sink, and he starts to laugh hysterically at the absurdity of that bonobo. I mean, he couldn’t control himself, so that got me going, and next thing I know we’re sitting on the kitchen floor next to each other holding hands.

 

I looked at him, he looked at me, and I just knew. I picked him up and put him on my lap, wrapped my arms around him asked, are we gone be okay?

 

And he turns around and smiles at me. I love his smile. Then he turns back around, lays his head against my chest, pats my leg and says, we will be.

 

I love this bear so much. He’s the world’s best bear. We got some issues to work out. But he’s right, like he usually is. We’ll be okay. 

[Baby Billy]

adorable?

[kerry]

This is so completely cute! Thanks for writing it and sharing it.

[Sarah Penguin]

You have reached the silly adorable bear singularity.