The Day My Broken Dishwasher Taught Me About Love

The Breakdown

It started with a breadcrumb. A lone crispy intruder lodged in the bottom of my ancient dishwasher. I didn’t think much of it at first—breadcrumbs are to the kitchen what glitter is to a craft table: omnipresent and impossible to fully eliminate. But, within days, it escalated. The machine began sputtering and wheezing like a Victorian damsel in her deathbed. My glasses came out streaky, my plates were strangely oily, and every spoon bore a faded ghost of last night's dinner.

As someone deeply invested in romantic metaphors (I have an MFA and a habit of assigning human emotions to household objects), I couldn’t help but think: This is exactly what happens in relationships when small issues go ignored. Breadcrumbs of insecurity or resentment can accumulate, clogging your ability to function together.

But more on that later.

From Neglect to Chaos

Like any millennial trained to Google first and call an actual professional never, I spent hours diagnosing the issue on YouTube. I unscrewed panels, fished out gunk with a chopstick, and even treated the poor dishwasher to a homemade vinegar-and-baking-soda bath (TikTok swore by this). Nothing worked. At one point, I just stared into its damp, soapy abyss and whispered, “I don’t know how to fix you.”

And wow, if that isn’t one of the rawest things we can say to someone we love: I don’t know how to fix you. If you’ve been there—stuck in a relationship where every conversation feels like you’re speaking different dialects or every argument loops back to the same stubborn breadcrumb—you know exactly what I mean. Sometimes, it feels easier to walk away and hand the problem to someone else.

That’s what I did with the dishwasher. I called a repair guy.

Enter Marcel: A Dishwasher Whisperer

When Marcel showed up, he took one look at my sad little Whirlpool and squinted at me like I’d personally offended him. “You have been ignoring the signs,” he said in French-accented English (this is Montreal; everyone sounds vaguely poetic and judgmental).

He removed parts with surgical precision, unveiling a series of filters clogged with not just breadcrumbs but pasta fragments, a twist tie, and—unbelievably—a lone cherry pit. “Dishwashers,” Marcel explained, “are not built to handle carelessness. You let this build up over time, and voilà, catastrophe.”

I wanted to defend myself—to point out that I was busy, that life throws curveballs, that sometimes you slam the door shut on a mess and hope it’ll disappear. But Marcel wasn’t having it. “Even machines,” he said, “need upkeep.”

And it hit me: This man wasn’t just describing my dishwasher. He was describing relationships. Romantic ones. Platonic ones. Maybe even the one I have with myself.

The Maintenance We Skip

We talk a lot about grand gestures in love: the just-because flowers, the surprise airport reunions, the epically long handwritten letters. But how many of us romanticize the routine maintenance required to keep a connection running smoothly?

Relationships are the dishwashers of human emotions (stay with me here). They’re sturdy, designed to withstand a lot of mess, but they’re not indestructible. Small acts of neglect snowball:

  • Unspoken emotions: Like the tiny scrap of lettuce trapped in the dishwasher’s filter, they fester. Suddenly, you’re snapping at your partner because they bought the wrong oat milk, but really you’re upset they didn’t notice you were quiet last Tuesday.
  • Forgetting check-ins: Saying “How was your day?” might feel like the conversational equivalent of missionary position—predictable but effective. Relationships need these little resets to clear out emotional buildup.
  • Taking things for granted: Just like loading a lasagna-crusted pan and assuming the dishwasher will magically handle it, you get lazy in your appreciation, assuming your partner already “knows” that you care.

The truth is, anything left ignored—whether it’s your dishwasher filter or that weird distance creeping between you—will eventually stop working.

How to Love Like a Dishwasher Repair Pro

So what can we learn from Marcel and his no-nonsense approach to maintaining appliances (and love)? Here are a few surprisingly practical tips I gleaned:

  1. Schedule a Clean Cycle: Carve out time to intentionally “clean the filter” in your relationship. Maybe it’s a monthly dinner where you ask each other deeper questions. Maybe it’s a solo hike to reflect on what you need. Whatever it looks like, make time to reset.

  2. Deal with the Small Stuff: Address the breadcrumbs before they snowball into bigger issues. Left unchecked, a passive-aggressive “K” text or an unwashed coffee mug can spiral into full-blown resentment.

  3. Ask for Help When You Need It: Sometimes we’re too close to a problem to see it clearly. Whether it’s a couples therapist or a dishwasher expert, don’t be afraid to call in reinforcements. Bonus points if they’re also named Marcel.

  4. Read the Manual: OK, you can take this one metaphorically (unless you also tend to neglect appliance manuals like I do). But the idea is to get curious. Ask questions about your partner’s needs, fears, or dreams. If relationships came with user guides, they’d probably read: “Handle with care and regular curiosity.”

  5. Celebrate What Works: After Marcel fixed my dishwasher, I washed every mug and plate in my apartment simply because I could. Sometimes we forget to appreciate the love that chugs along quietly in the background, working tirelessly for us. Take a second to notice it.

The Cycle Continues

The moment Marcel left my apartment, invoice in hand, I texted my partner: “I think I just learned a deep lesson about love…from a dishwasher.”

As I typed that message, I thought about how relationships, like machines, can feel frustrating and impossible to fix at times. But they’re also worth the effort. My dishwasher may not be showroom-new, but it’s mine. And with a bit of care, it still has plenty of life left in it. Just like most relationships do—if we’re willing to put in the work.

And if ever you’re in doubt, take it from Marcel: Even machines need upkeep. So, too, do the whirlpools of love.