3/20/14
(Cole):
Once again I must apologize for the long
interval between posts. My
financial situation is anemic at best, and it’s all I can do to keep my anxiety
from delivering the last fatal blow to my nerves and I end up in a mental
institution, padded rooms and straightjacket included…
I
believe I left off writing about trust, or lack there of, and how such emotions
are contagious. Despite a few
serious conversations concerning this issue, I still feel as if I am unable to
get through to the Rapist. Marge
says if things keep going in this same vein, he will eventually push me away,
and I think she is right. After
all, what is the point of being a stand up, trustworthy girlfriend if all
you’re going to be met with is skepticism and doubt? If I’m going to be accused of something I’m not doing, how
long before he pushes me into actually doing it, to give his accusations merit?
In
order to paint an adequate picture I will give you a recent example.
My
brother got married in New York The first of March. The Rapist was invited, knew he was welcomed, and that I
wanted him to be there with me, but sadly, this date was in the middle of an
outage, and he expressed with regret that he would not be able to attend. I was disappointed, of course, but I
also understood. So off I went,
alone, to stay three nights in New York with my brothers (and future
brother-in-law), gallivanting, drinking, and celebrating a union of which I
could not be more supportive.
I
woke up at two AM the Friday of my flight and had a friend pick me up to drive
me to the airport (I live in California and I hate to fly, so I basically need
to start “self medicating” an hour to two hours before take-off).
After
one layover, three clonazepam, and god knows how much scotch, then a train and
two subway cars, I finally arrive at my hotel, one half full airplane sized
bottle of scotch stuffed firmly into my cleavage (much to the hotel staff’s
amusement) I finally arrive at my hotel at around seven PM New York time. I have just enough time to freshen up,
empty the dregs of my boob bottle of scotch into a cup of freshly brewed hotel
room coffee (Ick, I know, but I was tired and my brother was getting married! I had to keep the party going!), and
then get back on the subway and boogie over to my brother’s house to party with
him, his fiancé, my other brother and his girlfriend, and all of the other
friends and family of the groom and groom.
I
let the Rapist know that I have landed safe, arrived at the hotel ok, then once
I get to my brother’s house. That
is not enough for him. He wants to
keep texting. Why would I want to
spend the entire night glued to my phone when I am in New York with my
brothers, both of whom I see a couple of times a year at best? I answer as often as is convenient, but
come on! I’m busy partying with my
brothers and future family-in-law!
A
few more drinks, snacks, photos and a final car ride back to my hotel I am so
exhausted that I pass out, fully clothed.
I even still had my shoes on I was that tired, buzzed, and exhausted
from my trip and the anxiety that comes with flying. I awake at around four in the morning to several texts from
the Rapist, the last one saying “I don’t know why you’re not texting me back
but I don’t like it!” All I could think was ‘Oh, you don’t like it? What exactly is it that you think I’m
doing? I’m here for my brother,
not a booty call, and FYI, you were invited!!!” I text him back that I passed out in my hotel room, alone, then I took off my clothes and climbed back into
bed, trying to get back to sleep but I get a phone call instead. It’s the Rapist, and he starts grilling
me! Why was I ignoring his texts,
how did I get back to the hotel, who I had been hanging out with? (hmmmm. Who was I hanging out with? Seriously? How about my brothers!)
I
should have just hung up on him for being so insecure and irrational, but I
didn’t. We spoke for a while and
then I finally got back to sleep. The thing that bothers me, is that once I
stopped texting back, his concern was not for my safety, but my whereabouts,
and whether or not I was alone or with a male “companion”. His text did not say, “I haven’t heard
from you in a while and I’m worried, are you ok?” but instead it was slightly
accusatorial in nature. There was
no worry about my body perhaps being dead in a ditch somewhere, only worry
about it being in bed with someone other than he. Gee, thanks, Rapist.
Glad to know you care so much about my safety and well-being. Pshhhhhhhhh…
The
following evening was Saturday, the day of my brother’s wedding. It was also the day the Rapist was
supposed to go back to work. So
you can imagine my surprise when I receive several texts from his mobile phone
(which he can only use at work if he is in training or outside the “power
block”, which I knew he would not be during an outage). I asked why he was able to use his cell
phone as apposed to sending me text messages via his g-mail account, which he
typically does when he is at work, and he tells me he was given the night
off.
I
was devastated. He could have been
there with me, at my brother’s wedding after all, but instead of buying a last
minute ticket, one that he could easily afford, he instead just continues to
send me texts throughout the evening, to be sure of my whereabouts, throughout
the ceremony and into the wee hours of the morning, when I ended up hanging out
and eating pizza with my brother and his new husband, in their hotel room,
shooting the shit and speculating about my absentee parents. The constant texting continued into
Sunday and Monday, and didn’t stop until he knew I was back home safe in
California, and even then it was because he knew I would be waking up early the
next morning, to drive to his house, fuck, and sleep with him all day, as he
was still on night shift, then fuck again once we woke up, and drive back
home. We missed each other, missed
fucking, and I was in need of some desperate sleep that I failed to get all
weekend long.
I
will bring my point to a close with this last little tidbit of information, and
then you decided if I am being rational or not:
Two
weeks later, the Rapist got a Thursday night off. The outage was coming to an end and he didn’t need to work
six consecutive thirteen-hour nights anymore. He asked if I would like to come over and spend the night
with him on Thursday. I told him
that I would love to, of course, but that I had an important job interview
early Friday morning, and I thought it would be best if I stayed at home,
didn’t drink too much (we typically drink a bit and stay up quite late together
if we don’t work the next day), got plenty of sleep in my own bed and woke up
fresh and ready to present myself in the best possible light the next day. He said he understood and we planned on
getting together Friday night instead.
All
day and all night Thursday go by and don’t get a peep from him. And all morning Friday I get zip. Not even what I consider to be a common
courtesy “good luck on your job interview” text. I get ignored all day until Friday afternoon, and even then
what do I get? Not him asking how
my very important interview went, but him canceling on me to go see his sister
because she wasn’t feeling well. I
understood him canceling since his sister wasn’t well. Of course I could respect that, but did
I really deserve to get treated so callously?
To
me, it looked like this: When I
was all the way across the country he blew me up day and night, because I was
in New York and he was in Cali, and therefore he could not keep tabs on
me. But Thursday night before my
job interview, he knew damn well that I had declined his invitation so I could
be fresh in the morning, so that I couldn’t possibly be out and about,
gallivanting around. He knew I was
being good, so not only did he not feel the need to “check in” with me, he also
did not care to show support for something that he knew was so important to me. It’s insecure and it’s also just down
right rude! But perhaps I am
overreacting???
After
a few days of ignoring him, after he was getting frustrated with my silence and
wondering just how long I was planning on ignoring him, I sent him a scathing
email, and a text that said “check your email. That is all.” I
explained to him how I was feeling and why I was feeling the way I did. He said he understood. He apologized, but he also couldn’t
help to add that I wasn’t always easy to deal with either, and that I too could
be a gigantic pain in the ass, at times.
And he’s right. I can be a
passionate, tumultuous mess, but I never claimed to be otherwise.
When
I went over to his house for a shag and a catnap the following day, I told him
that he should treat me the way he would like to be treated, and he sort of
shook his head and was silent for a while. I prompted him to say what he thinking, and he uttered,
barely audible, “If I treat you the way I want to be treated you’ll just walk
all over me.” Oooooooh snap!
I
believe I touched on this briefly in my last post. To an extent, a very teeny, tiny extent, this is true. In the beginning of our relationship I
told him not to become “my bitch”, not to be too nice, because if he was I
would no longer respect him and then no longer be attracted to him, etc. However, the line between being
someone’s bitch and just not being a complete asshole all the time (“slight” exaggeration for effect) is
not a fine one, in fact, it isn’t even a line, it’s a fucking eight lane
highway! Marge says him saying
that is just an excuse. I think
that, though it is somewhat of an excuse to get off easy and not have to put in
much effort, there is some
merit to what he said. I did
reveal some truths to him about my personality very early on. The other oddities of my fickle
personality he very cleverly gleaned from covert conversations with my
ex-husband, pretending to be a shoulder to cry on. But, I have already written about how much that pissed me
off in previous posts and if I get back on that train right now I’ll work
myself up about something that has already been dealt with and I would like to
leave in the past.
Suffice
to say I treat him waaaaaaay better than he treats me, and he readily admits
it. So short of beginning to treat
him the way he treats me, how do I go about waking his ass up to realize how
one-sided everything is? It’s not
like I live with him, don’t have a job, and he pays all my bills! I have a job, pay my own bills (bills
that I can hardly afford at this point in my life) and on top of it I spend
money I don’t have (primarily on gas, now) to pamper the shit out of him and it
seems like, not only does he just expect it, he takes it for granted. He doesn’t seem to think I, nor my love
for him, is special at all, and I must say, his behavior is starting to wear me
down…
Initially,
I wanted to cover Valentine’s Day in this post, but time dragged on and I
decided to cover something else instead, but I believe even what I have written
about can be in some small way also connected to the way I feel about
Valentine’s day, or at least I can somewhat easily segue into what it is that I
dislike about V day.
Flash
backward to February 14th.
It’s Valentine’s day, yes, but it also happens to be the Rapists
birthday, and that is how I prepared for it. It is a birthday to be celebrated, not a Hallmark holiday
that society says I should
celebrate. Don’t get me
wrong. I am not anti love or even
anti romance. I am, however, anti
behaving as if love and romance are more important on February 14th
because there is too big a gap between New Year’s and Easter. I am anti feeling obligated to do
something on that specific day because if I don’t, I’m an asshole, and to be
perfectly honest, I don’t want my man only getting me a present and celebrating
the day with me because he feels like if he doesn’t he will get punished for
it! Where’s the fun in that? There isn’t.
I
won’t lie, the Rapist nailed it!
Whether or not he got the things he did for me because he genuinely
wanted to (which I believe he did) or because he thought I would get mad at him
if he didn’t (which I hope he didn’t and I reiterated that I don’t enjoy the
“concept” of V day for a reason) I don’t know. What I do know, is that he put a lot of thought into what he
got me. He even said that he
thought about getting me black roses (my favorite, and so hard to find!), but
then he said to me “I asked myself, what would Cole like more, flowers, or a
bottle of single malt scotch and homemade tamales?” He got me a really nice bottle of scotch that he had heard
me rave about before, and homemade tamales from someone at his chiropractor’s
office, and I loved it. It was
really thoughtful. But you know
what would be more thoughtful to me?
If he also felt inclined to get me a bottle of scotch and homemade
tamales on some random Tuesday in June, not because society said he should, or
because I had a birthday or there was some holiday, but just because he loves
me and wanted to do something nice.
To
me, it’s the random, little gestures that mean sooooo much more to me. Getting the New York Times from him
randomly without me having to ask, almost means more to me than the tamales and
scotch, because that is a spontaneous, random gesture, and not one that comes
from a social obligation to do something nice because society says you’re a
dick if you don’t.
Just
like for a birthday or Christmas, if you don’t get someone a gift on
Valentine’s day, there is something wrong with you, and getting something for
someone is not so much appreciated as expected. Well, ok. I
certainly do enjoy getting presents on their proper holiday, but the sentiment
is empty. People always say “it’s
the thought that counts”, so where is this thought concerning love and romance
the other 364 days a year?
I
try really hard to make sure the Rapist knows how special he is to me and how
much I love and care about him all the time and in any way that I can. Now that my financial situation is
nothing short of desperate, the tangible gifts are no longer possible, but a
dirty text, dirty pic, a random compliment, or even just reminding him that
he’s almost out of coffee filters or vodka before he gets home so he doesn’t
have to go out again I think are sweet gestures to make him smile, especially
during an outage when he’s working so many hours. I’ll send him a video that I think is funny on the internet
and even offer to make coffee for him when we are both hungover and neither of
us wants to get out of bed. I’ll
come over early and walk his dog for him so he doesn’t have to after a 13-hour
shift and 15 hours away from home, and let me tell you, that is something! Not because I don’t like his dog. I love his dog! But because his dog is a German Shepard
that weighs as much as I do and you should see the size of his ridiculous,
steaming, mushy shits! I have to
triple bag for fear of breakthrough, all the while heaving and trying not to
look directly at the shit for fear of vomiting all over the place and breathing
though my mouth as apposed to my nose!
My point is, I don’t only do these things on Valentine’s day. I do them every day, and not because
I’m an asshole if I don’t, but because I want to show him, in any way I can,
how much I love and appreciate him.
Does
the rapist do random nice things for me?
Yes, and I have written about it.
As I said, he will get me the paper on rare occasions. He has given me gas money (because he
knows I am broke), he has loaned me his truck before. He makes sure he always has a bottle of Jameson for me in
his cupboard and the 22’s of Lagunitas IPA that he knows I love so much. And early on, he stumbled upon a bacon
calendar and did not hesitate to buy it for me because my love for bacon
borders on obscene. And let’s not
forget the two bottles of EPIC, and quite expensive, rosé champagne he bought
for New Year’s Eve (though it was a “holiday”…). He does do nice things for me, but they are few and far
between. If our random acts of
kindness toward each other were graded on a curve, he would bring me so far
down we would both fail.
My
ex-husband was unable to please me sexually toward the end. I tried for years to explain to him
what I needed, but he was unwilling to hear what I had to say. The Rapist knows this is why my ex and
I ended so disastrously. When the
person you are with doesn’t want to listen, doesn’t want to work with you, you
seek what you need and aren’t getting outside of the relationship. If the Rapist hears me saying that I need
a little more attention, a little more love, affection and thoughtful
consideration, yet is unwilling to listen, unwilling to give me what I need, I
wonder how long he thinks I will hold on until I start looking for the
attention and affection I deserve elsewhere…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NbWrZE2MKj8&feature=em-share_video_user
In
closing, I would just like to make a suggestion. If you are with someone that you love, now that it’s a
random day in March, why don’t you do something nice for them, to show them
that you care about them, because actions speak louder than words, and because showing someone they are special and loved often means
more to a person than just hearing
it but not feeling it. Buy the “significant other” in your
life a bouquet of flowers, bake them a batch of cookies or their favorite
dessert. Take them for a romantic
or peaceful get away just for the hell of it. Or, if you’re broke like me, doodle them a little drawing,
paint them a picture, grout them a mosaic or write them a little love poem or
letter and stick it somewhere they will stumble upon it when they least expect
it.
Do
not just tell a person that you love them, show them that you love them, because as I have said to
the Rapist, at the end of the day, a person just wants to feel special…
(Insert
we might be dead tomorrow link)
