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 14^th.  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 14^th 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)