In Which a Mediation is Necessary

I had noticed that after politely bringing up the dirty dishes situation twice, the single electric frying pan in the kitchen, along with various plates and utensils, more often than not lay on the counter with the greasy scum of old over-processed meat dishes floating like dead fish upon its glistening surface. This meant that I could not cook for myself. It also meant that I was revolted. It also meant that I was very angry, and could not tell Kenny I was angry because he was on vacation. I couldn't tell him when he came back because he had a lot to deal with. And so it was that I brought it up at a bad time, when we were all in the kitchen and I attacked publicly. Kenny replied that he needed to get a servant woman who could do his dishes. I told him that that was privileged and disgusting. He told me that he does not have time to do dishes. I suggested he grow up and act like an adult who can take responsibility for himself. He suggested that Pablo would be in charge of doing his dishes from now on. I suggested that they were not Pablo's dishes, and that was not a solution. He suggested I move out. I said that that was ludicrous, and that I had been given the house by Jill and Bob. He suggested that he had been there first. I suggested that I lived there now, and slept there more often than he did. He suggested that he spent more money on the house. Jill suggested we have a mediation.

Some of you may know that the last time I had a mediation with a room mate, it ended with me shouting, "I can't have sex in the living room!" and her moving out. I truly wanted a better outcome this time. I was committed to communicating non-violently. Only using I-statements. Compromising. Understanding cultural differences.

What I was unprepared for was the possibility that Kenny would be furiously angry and refuse to talk about his feelings. I was unprepared for him to reject the mediation format, and to think that trying to work things out was an invalid solution. When pressed firmly to speak, he acquiesced by saying he would go home, wash the dishes, and never use the kitchen again. There. No more problem. Jill suggested that that was not working together to find a solution. Kenny suggested that we were wasting his time. I got to tell everyone my feelings, disrespected, revolted, resentful, wanting to cook for myself, not wanting value or merit as a housemate to revolve around money, etc. There was no resolution.

The next day, Kenny almost left the house without doing his dishes, but I caught him and asked him nicely if he please would. He agreed. And has, to his credit, being doing them ever since. I think I won the war of attrition not because he thinks I am right, not because he wants to compromise or make me happy, but because he would rather do his dishes than ever, EVER have a mediation with me again.

The "peace" has been cold and mildly hostile, with lots of passive aggression. We are no longer friends. We do not speak if we don't have to. I think he is being a brute and a child, but who even knows what he thinks of me?