I think that wrong number was a sign

I really do. A the end of a total fuck off of a day (12.5 hours behind soul sucking cubicle walls) while walking to drop off stuff for work I check my messages. The first message was really unexpected. A deep voice belonging in a church choir informs me he is calling back about the apartment and that he is showing it from such in such to such and such... I haven't called any apartments... well at least not physically. Haven't even dailed/emailed but lo and behold they are calling me. I should have taken note and not erased that message.


The next voice mail was a charmer. Nick is this pissy voice telling me that the mail I really needed didn't come. No pay for me, oh, goody, just the thing to go with a sour teenager. When I called back the conversation with both Nick and Mark on the line was really special too but that is a story for another day... let us just say the phone conversation was brief entailing the fact I didn't get the check I needed and some more complainy tone from both of them. I was topped out to say the least.

But let me take you back. Mark was really good to me last week. I was starting to think he had gotten a clue. And I was good to him back. I was all fake and everything for his folks (so they would be comforatable and he wouldn't have to "dissapoint" them) and spent my only real free time doing the stuff he wanted to do and needed for his parent. I didn't mind getting out fresh towels, or giving up my bed or all the other host stuff you do. It was having to button my lip while the said how great Dublin was and espoused the wonders of Walmart. Or when they denigrated ethnic food because it might have "flavor". Or when the forced me to have my picture taken despite the fact I had said I really didn't want it taken. Or when I had to agree with the stupid little things like "yes, visitors to SF only ever go to Fisherman's wharf" blah blah blah. I was even sat through a thing with all Mark's friend where they talked about their BMW's, the prices of homes in Tracy and how they couldn't trust their teenage daughter with a car that had a back seat... cause you know girls can't be trusted and sex is bad. "ha, ha, ha" I was affectionate with him when he was nice to me. And when he actually folded some laundry I was nice and took care of some of his stuff. I put energy and thought and a huge effort into being honest but not too brutal. I did the little things I thought would make his life easier without being asked. And it was starting to feel natural and easy to be around him. Well his parents left and it all came crashing down. And all the pleasantness went away. It makes me wonder if he wants to be with me or just doesn't want to be alone. Or if he was just faking it to look good for his folks. Or did he think that if he was cool for a week and that was going to change everything and make it magically better. Or that a little bit of kindness should be enough to keep me for a while and that it was enough.

Not to say that I am without fault. I was snappy when I got in last night. And after I cooled down, I apologized for it. I had my reasons (legit ones) but I could have gone about communicating them without being a bitch. I said as much. He proceeds to rain down a 15 min. "you suck, if you are ever a bitch to me I am leaving you" accompanied by all the reasons that I am not good enough for him. I point out I am very rarely a bitch to him... he agrees, then continues to spew his venom on everything I have done/not done that isn't good enough or right enough to him. Just when he was getting all into it and I felt me spirit being crushed I hit a wall. I said enough. I got up and headed to the door. He fucking threatened me. "If you walk away we're through!". Bite me. I will not be held hostage to emotional blackmail so I can be someone's whipping boy – all because I am not happy being twisted into someone I am not. Someone I don't want to be. I said straight up that I would not take ultimatums or threats and out the door I went. For the record I won't ever take that again in life. I am an adult and I have the power to end it. And so I did.

Like a good little blogger I went up to write it all out. He busts in before I even get to the third sentence with tears and more yelling and such. I point out that he was raining down on me the same shit that he said he didn't want, only a thousand fold. He admitted he was... and nothing changed. He admits to being a twat but still can't hear me when I say I am profoundly fucking unhappy and sad. All he can say is that all the work I have been doing is outstanding but ignores it when I say it is killing me body and soul. When I say that I feel like I am disappearing because the navaho white wall of the house don't encompass a place for me to create anything all he does is nod his head. As if to say that is a drag but isn't everything here so nice.

Nice. I am coming to hate nice. Everyone has to be so nice. And aren't cookie cutter houses nice. And aren't perfect lawns nice. And isn't Mervyn's so nice. That shopping mall is so Nice. And why don't we do the same Nice crap until we are nicely just like everyone else, marching through their nice lives making sure to buy the same nice stuff that is going to make them nicely happy little hollow fucks.

It all came to nothing. I had to go to sleep. I had nothing left. Nothing for him. Nothing left for the boys. And nothing left for me. I was too tired to even eat dinner. As I went to sleep that message on my voice mail plays back in my head.

It is still playing now.

Am I your mother now...????

So I told boy-o I was taking some time off the whole mess. I did not ask... I took it. I wanted it understood that this isn't a negotiation, a debate or something I was going to have to "pay" for one way or another. And I wasn't going to feel bad about it. I am not doing it "to him"... I am just doing something for myself. I wasn't angry or cutting or mean. I was personally responsible and just said it like it was — then promptly took myself off to the couch to sleep* with the blanket I liked without having to deal with his huffy puffy everything must be in order "oh, did you want to sleep somewhere besides the edge of the mattress" self. He started with the same old tears and quite frankly I wasn't having it. It was all self indulgent and manipulative and I wasn't buying into another of his crying fests where nothing goes anywhere and all that happens is we are a bit nicer to each other for a few days then it all fades back to the soul suck gas chamber that my relationship is slowing turning into. (sorry for the run on sentences.) Boo Hoo so he is scared. Boo hoo so he is angry. Boo hoo so he misses me. When he laid that one on me the first thing that popped into my head was "If you miss me so much why don't you stop trying to change me." And I told him so after thinking about it for a min or two. He of course was taken aback. Usually he can push all my emotional buttons with that crap. My "oh, he needs me button", My "oh, he wants me button", My "oh, he has an owhie... let me make it better button" . Am I his mother or his lover... cause I would really like to know just what he is thinking with that. Well after three years I am over it. I guess he pushed those buttons so many times they are just plain broke. Like the record he keeps on playing.

Well the look of irked shock appeared on his face turning into the mug of a petulant child. Like I had sworn forever to react the same way to the same shit in blood. Pahleeeze.

Any how he had a day to think about. And he writes me an email mid day say things like " I feel better about our relationship" and " respect that you need space..." "blah, blah, blah". When I read it I naively though that he meant what he said... well as he wrote it. HA! He goes about the rest of life like I never even said anything. Kiss kiss, come talk to me, my parents, my work, my yadda yadda. Dude. What part of I am taking a break from you, from trying to do things with you did you not understand?! Common courtesy is great and all. Polite affection - great. But don't take up my time. And I do mean MY time. And when you do take up my time and I am not all reciprocal with the engagement into conversation or physical affection don't be surprised. Well he was surprised. In fact he wanted to have a conversation about when he kissed me good night. Now please take into account that when he did I didn't shy way or duck I just wasn't all warm and fuzzy. Well I am in the middle of my wind down getting ready to do to sleep and he trots up and want to talk about it. He want me to tell him in definitive terms what he should and shouldn't do. For fuck sake. I don't want to spend my time telling him what to do and when to do or not do it. I don't want to spend my time thinking about it. And for all the beans in mexico I sure as hell don't want to talk about it. I told him I was ambivalent and that while not the black/white answer he wanted was what I had to offer. And once again I got treated to a view of the look of irked shock on his face. Oh, boy. Now isn't that relaxing.

I need to let it all go for the day and find something yummy to think about. Like hanging out with my friends and such. Or seeing something new or maybe anything at all... like a new painting. Oh, ya... Hmmm baby.


* (where btw, I had nice nights sleep on my own and was a lot more satisfied wink, wink. It was so peaceful... So much so that it could come as little surprise that I am sleeping there again)

Laundry

The chasm between us can be typified by laundry. We have live together for over year but there are still two kinds of laundry... his laundry and my laundry (consisting of all laundry that isn't his personal laundry). Every Sunday he clears the laundry room and like a meticulously timed clock moves his laundry about until it is done. Not that he reads the labels - philistine. Who pays $130 for a pair of jeans and then doesn't read the label?? Not that he knew what a well cut pair of jeans were before I did the queer eye thing for him for his birthday. Anyhow. Less on the source of laundry than on the politics of laundry.

Let me take you to this sunday. It was mothers day. He bought breakfast stuff and some flowers and my 16 year old cooked breakfast ( yummy, he is a good cook) and it was really nice. Nothing over the top... no coffee. All in all I thought it was really nice. Anyhow He (the man not my boy) cleaned the kitchen afterwards... bitched about it the whole time. In fact bitched about it the whole day. While I worked. The whole day. Oh, I took 30 min to go have a bath. Anyhow. He does his laundry as he does every Sunday as if not doing so would somehow upset the delicate balance that keeps the world spinning. Uses all the laundry soap. It never even occurs to him that I too will need to go to work tomorrow. Children will need to go to school. In fact he doesn't even mention it. I get to find out the hard way when I go to wash something for work at 8ish when I could no longer look at the TV screen. Myopic that is what he is. It never occurs to him to just do something together. And when he does (i.e. breakfast) I am made to pay for it. How nice is that. Grrrrh. Anyhow now he is confused that I don't want much to do with him. Why should I. Will I ever iron his shirts just to be nice again?? I think not.


Right now there is this brit pop song rolling through my head. The refrain goes "Everyday I love you less and less". I fantasize about little two bedroom ghetto apartments with just me and the boys. Some where were people are more (and less) than just safe about every choice they ever make. And things aren't perfect and they aren't beige and they don't have to be either. Fucking laundry.