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HotChild2012 – Dating or Whatever We Call It

Dating experiences with an edgy twist

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fighting

How many more times? The breakup

Michael and I have been together for almost a year and living together for the last 5 months. He is my best friend and I love him but his mood swings are more than I can bear. Going off his medications does not help our relationship nor does it help his work. He’s spiraling out of control. I plead with him to go see his doctor but he refuses. He rather self medicate by drinking alcohol and smoking weed. He’s also smoking cigarettes again, something I detest.

I try to help but he pushes me away. Even when I try to talk to him calmly, he rolls his eyes, abruptly gets up and walks out of the room, slamming the door. It has reached a point where I realize no matter how much we love each other love isn’t enough to keep us together. Looking back at our relationship it has been rocky from the start.

We’ve had our share of fights. I know I’m not an angel and my insecurities in the past have caused a lot of grief but I’ve worked on it. I know now he would never cheat on me but I don’t know what is worse?  One who cheats with another or leaves emotionally?

I know he’s really been down since he has writer’s block so I tell him about a creative writing course at the local college, which could help him with his writing, something which he is passionate about. Oh my, it’s almost as though I insulted him.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” he screams at me.

“Michael, I just thought”.

“You think I can’t write?” he says as he jumps up and comes towards me his eyes showing his fury.

“No! That’s not what I said! I said” but he cuts me off again.

His face is inches from mine. I can see his anger as he shouts obscenities at me, telling me to fuck off and mind my own business.

“Know what Michael? Fuck you! I’m done with this so called relationship. You’re a fucking limp dick!” I scream as I jump up. “Fuck you Fuck you Fuck you! Asshole!” I yell as I give him the middle finger.

I grab my jacket, cell phone, pocketbook and keys and run out jumping in my car. I peel out of the driveway. I don’t care if anyone hears me. I drive for a while too mad to go anywhere. My phone is ringing but I refuse to answer it. When I’m really mad I can’t talk, what’s the point? I drive for a few hours with the music blaring. Finally I see a Holiday Inn Express sign and pull in. I can’t go back to him, so I book a room for the night and turn off my phone.

Once inside my room, I strip and take a long hot shower trying to clear my head. The hot water feels good against my skin and I start to relax. The last couple of months I felt as though I was walking on eggshells with him and now this fight is the final blow. I can’t do this to myself anymore. I just can’t.

I dry off and get into bed but my mind starts to race. I love him, but I realize I love myself more. Finally, I drift off to sleep. When I awake it’s 9am. I stretch and get up. I turn on my cell and scan the messages. Fifteen voice mail messages and ten text messages, all from Michael. The first few messages he’s telling me to fuck off, but by the end he’s apologetic: Passive Aggressive.

I know I can’t be with him anymore. I can’t be with someone who is bi-polar. Finally with resolve I drive back to our home. As I pull into the driveway I feel a sudden sense of dread. I unlock the front door and walk in. Michael is sleeping on the couch, dozens of beer cans are scattered on the floor. I watch him sleep. He looks so peaceful. I’m afraid to wake him not knowing how he will react if he sees me.

As I turn, I hear him stir, but he doesn’t wake up. I tip toe to the bedroom, grabbing my suitcases from the closet and I start packing my belongings. Lost in thought I’m startled by a voice and jump.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I jumped down your throat” he says with pleading in his eyes.

I look at him warily. “I love you but I can’t do this anymore.” I say as I continue to pack.

“I know, I need help. I will do anything to keep you from leaving me”

“Michael. I think we need time apart. You’ve got to find a way to get better on your own. You’ve got to do this for yourself.”

“I know but please stay.”

“I need to move out. I’ll arrange for a mover to take my things.” I say with resolve avoiding his eyes.

“I’m sorry” he says as he looks at the floor.

“You know I love you, but I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t”. I say as I walk over to him and hug him.

“I know”. He says as his voice trails off.

We hold each other tight for a while before we let go and look at each other. My heart goes out to him. I just want to hold him forever, but I know he will relapse into his own world. It’s best that we go our separate ways.

I pick up my suitcases and walk to the door.

“I’m leaving town for a while to help my sister, Julia. I think its best if we don’t communicate. I hope you find your way Michael, I really do.” A smile escapes my lips.

“Take care”. I say as I walk out the door.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Bitch Factor: Dating or Whatever We Call It…

IMG_0957Why is it that when lovers ask us to do things for them we do it without bitching, but when we ask lovers to do something for us they say yes then bitch and whine about it?

Last week I was put into a corner taking care of my horse who is injured. I needed help removing and putting new bandages on her leg. I called everyone, but no one could help me, so I text my X. He says, sure. I tell him that it needs to be done twice a week and he’s fine with that because he loves my horses. Relieved and anxiety ridden at the same time. The break up is still fresh. I don’t want to see him but he is good with my horses and I need help.

My quarter horse Locket was injured in a fight with another horse last month and was beaten up. Instead of paying the vet $150 per visit (I was already in the hole for $2500 in vet bills) she suggested I do it myself. She gives me sedation drugs to administer in the muscle in her neck.

I pick Michael up and we head to the barn. It takes 20 minutes to drive and we chat about nothing to pass the time. After I inject Locket with the sedation drug, we have to wait 30 minutes for it to kick in. We go see the other horses in the mean time. We are our old selves laughing enjoying each other’s company. He loves them and its good to see him smile.

After 30 minutes we go back to Locket who is a pill. Michael holds her and I try in vain to clean her wound on her hind leg but she wants nothing to do with it. You would never know she’s sedated. She kicks and nearly misses me. Finally I have to get help.

What should have taken us an hour to re-bandage takes us two hours. I need to get more supplies and Michael suggests that we go and get them on the way back. I thank him for helping me. He says no problem.

The third time I pick him up he’s in a bitchy mood. He’s getting sick again and is miserable. He complains about how long it takes to bandage her. I listen and try to explain but he still bitches. He should have told me that he can’t help me. I would have understood.

My blood is starting to boil and I do everything to stop blurting our that he’s a full blown Dick. Never mind Locket being a drama queen now my X is one as well. Serenity Now! I try to remain calm. I want to tell him to go fuck himself that he is being a narcissist but I don’t. I need him to help me today.

When we get to the barn, it takes longer than usual because the drug is not working and Locket senses our edginess. She’s a Freak! I have no patience and again I have to get someone else to help us. Michael is rolling his eyes.

Thoughts run through my mind. When Michael went away for a week he asked me to take care of his cat. I did. Everyday I drove 30 minutes through inclement weather to feed and care for his beloved cat. Did I complain when I was feeling lousy? No!

When he had a minor operation done and needed help getting back from the doctors office, he asked if I could help him. I said yes. I had to wait 4 hours in the waiting room because it was taking longer than expected. Did I complain to him about it? No! I didn’t. I never complained. I did it because he is a friend and that’s what friends do for each other. They help each other.

Why does he feel the need to bitch to me about helping me when he offered to help? I don’t understand it! He should have said no. That two letter word NO would have been so much easier to say.

Did I say Serenity Now? UGH!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#PanicAttacks: Dating or Whatever We Call It

There’s a Christmas party at our gym and Michael who is Bipolar and has the Holiday Blues wants to go. Free food and drinks how can one pass that up? We plan on playing racquetball then go to the party.

I pick him up at 4:30 he’s in his gym clothes. I want to say: “Is that what you are wearing to the party?” But I don’t dare since he would think I’m criticizing him as his father always does. I bite my tongue and say nothing.

We arrive at the gym but the parking lot is full and we have to park on the street. We walk in but find that the courts are filled with tables of food. I look at Michael and say: “Since we are here why don’t we just work out and then join the party?”

He rolls his eyes.  I see that he’s not happy. I smile at him as I turn and go into the women’s locker room. A few minutes later I come out but can’t find him. I realize I left my phone in the car so I can’t text him. I then decide not to work out so I shower and dress and walk towards the party. Wendy the membership director comes up to me and gives me a note.

It reads, “J – I’m in a shitty mood. I’m walking home. – Michael. I fold it and put it in my pocket. I’m psst. Wendy says: “Even though he left why don’t you come and join the festivities.” I smile and walk away.

He fucking left me at the party he wanted to go to. He couldn’t even wait for me? He couldn’t call my name over the loud speaker? He couldn’t have someone come and get me in the women’s locker room?

I’m too angry to stay. I hate being left. It’s a pet peeve of mine. How dare he! I pack up my stuff and walk to the car. When I’m furious I either scream and yell or become silent. I choose the latter.

Once in my car I look at my phone and see a text from him: “Sorry I had to leave the gym. I was freaked out by all the people and how underdressed and unmotivated to work out I felt.” I ignore it.

I click the Resign button on WordFued that I play with him. He promptly texts back: “Why did you resign?” I still don’t respond. He texts again: !!!! Sorry I just sort of freaked out because there were so many people around and couldn’t find you and didn’t have my phone. Sorry!!!!

After driving around to clear my head, I pull into a parking lot and finally text back: “I’m psst. In the future if you want me in your life you won’t do that again. I hate being left especially by someone I really like. Whatever!”

“Sorry i totally schized out.” He writes.

“You knew there was a party. Whatever. I will leave you alone.”

“Just tonight. Or you can come hang out. I just freaked out standing in the lobby alone. I walked through the gym twice but kept coming back to the lobby and it was crowded but they weren’t serving drinks yet.”

“I didn’t work out just showered and look hot. I guess I’ll go to a bar and have a few drinks. Enjoy.” I text back.

“Ok sorry i totally bailed. U can Come here if you want to.

“I’m to hurt to stop by. Ttyl.

I’m too angry to go to a bar and decide to head home. What am I getting myself into? He hates the Holidays which I love, he’s Bipolar and he has panic attacks. UGH!!!!!

I really like him, I’m drawn to him. When he’s not self absorbed he’s a great guy. He makes me feel alive. As Carrie from Sex & The City said about Big: “I’m addicted to the pain.” That sums it up. Apparently I’m attracted to the Bigs of the world, men who leave. I think it’s stems from my childhood.

My mother and father had a very volatile relationship. We grew up with the police coming to our door and being driven to school in police cars. The fighting, the screaming matches between two people who once loved each other was so hard to bare.

I remember my father finally having enough and leaving his four girls with our disturbed mother. She had horrible mood swings and either lashed out at us emotionally or disappeared into her own world.

At the age of nine I packed my belongings into a little grey oval suitcase and walked to his apartment which was a mile away. I wanted to live with my dad. I couldn’t deal living with my mother any longer. I was daddy’s little girl.

Through the years my father gained custody of me and my three sisters, but it was a 10 year battle of constant unrest. I still carry the battle scars from the war.

I do understand Michael’s predicament but that doesn’t make it any easier. The feelings of being left by my emotionally unstable mother and physically by my father still haunts me. The memories are all too real.

As I drag myself into my apartment I pour myself a glass of wine and head to bed. Feeling blue and not being able to sleep I watch Oklahoma with Shirley Jones. I don’t know if it’s the movie, or the wine but I don’t want to be angry with Michael anymore.

I text him: “I’m done being mad at you. I forgive you for being a shit. I’m heading up to the mountains tomorrow”

He texts back: “Ok I will clean my house. Sorry I Totally fucked you over at the party. The mountains will be nice.”

I might have forgiven him but I haven’t forgotten. I am a Scorpio and we don’t forgive easily. Trust is earned it’s not given. I hope he understands that.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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