The Truth Comes Out
2004-02-04, 8:49 p.m.
So, I bet you have been wondering what the hell is going on with me. (Especially since I've heard at least one comment about the last entry that it sounded like I was going to take up professional drinking.) Those of you who don't check the LJ might want to check the last week's posts for more detail, but here's the recap:
The hell began a week ago, when Dave was in a bad mood and had somehow injured his knee at work for a few hours. He was cranky, and started talking about quitting his job, without a new one. And I wigged the hell right out. And we both stomped off in huffs. I figured hey, give it 24 hours and we'll cool off, but instead he e-mailed me saying that he was hurt and pissed off and not to expect to hear from him for a few days. Don't call me, I'll call you.
At first, I was all fine, we need cool-off time, he'll call me on Thursday. It was the weekend right before our anniversary, and he'd said he wanted to spend it with me even if we didn't do anything.
Only, he didn't.
That's when I knew something was drastically wrong. And sure enough, he came online while I was at work on Friday saying that we were having serious problems and we really needed to either come up with some way to resolve them or give up and break up, even if we still loved each other. The money was an issue, as was me nagging him about things he couldn't do anything about at this time, as was... you guessed it, my parental issues and lack of ability to stand up to mine. He didn't want me to come that weekend, but to think about if I wanted to salvage the relationship or not and if so, how to do it. We'd discuss it once and for all on Monday. He said he'd try to contact me once during the weekend though.
So I spent last weekend mostly wigging out and reading self-help books and yakking with various folks. Heather was particularly brilliant on the issues. And despite my nervousness, I wasn't doing all that bad.
Except that he DIDN'T call me over the weekend.
Monday I spent the entire day nervous as all hell. I don't know how I made it through beading class, knowing that once I came home, the Day of Reckoning would begin, and I might very well get dumped on my anniversary. I felt sick to my stomach. So when I came home and found out that he'd been online and left, leaving messages saying that he had to work tomorrow and he'd try to get back to me on Wednesday...I was very much ARGH! Two more days of suspense!?
He said that he wasn't trying to avoid me and he loved me, but I suspected otherwise. Let's face it, he was acting like every guy I ever dated who suddenly morphed from being a nice decent guy once he got Evil Boy Virus, i.e. treating you like crap and ignoring you and hoping you get the hint that he's just plain DONE with you. In short, I felt like I was definitely getting dumped, and took up drinking.
And on Wednesday, when he was finally online... right away the conversation started out to confirm my worst fears: he said he still loved me, but he didn't think we could work out our differences. At which point I was crying and going, "So you've already given up on me? What happened to this idea of working things out? I thought you wanted to hear about that- are you not wanting to any more?" No, he said, he still wanted to hear, so I told him. I was already planning to lay off of nagging him about money- let's face it, when did I start going insane with the nagging? When the holidays were approaching and I'd have to deal with the nosy relatives. Ahem. Plus I was sick of myself. As far as I'm concerned, it's up to him to figure it out and I'm staying out of it. If he swims or sinks, it's his problem. He was fine with that. As for the parental issues, I think I may have figured out that trying to keep him out of and away from the family shit was perhaps hurting things with him more than helping.
I pretty much ripped him a new one for being incommunicado all week too and hurting the hell out of my feelings, but as it turned out he was having a hell week himself and really wasn't able to get ahold of me.
I think we are still together. He used the phrase "on probation", meaning that we both want to make it work, but are still kinda on edge with each other (if less mad and hurt). I don't know if we'd be doing well enough for me to say, go see him for Valentine's Day next weekend, if the romantic pressure is a bad thing. Then again, not seeing him for that day would just plain suck. I don't know.
But we're communicating again, and that's a good thing.