It was a bad idea and a good idea, moving in with S.P.
It's been about two weeks now. I'm trying to save up to move out of state, my lease was up, and S.P. generously offered his apartment for the remaining months until my big relocation. So, logistically, it was a smart move. One of the things I don't like about it, however, is that I can't avoid him when I'm angry. He doesn't like to leave me alone when I'm mad. He, for some reason, needs to pester me until I'm forced to confront him. This is dangerous. I have a powerful temper. I've been known to break things and put people in the hospital. It's far safer to just let me calm down before I say or do something I can't take back. I recognize it's not an attractive trait, this temper of mine. I'm working on it, but for now my method of keeping things from spinning out of control is to keep quiet and avoid confrontation. This is not something he seems to understand.
I'm mad right now. Angry, in fact, to the point that it's difficult to concentrate and really even see straight. That's why I'm posting. Maybe if I get my thoughts in order, I'll be able to calm down and get through this. I'll preface the following recap by acknowledging the absurdity of my emotions in this instance. I recognize that my responses are not logical or entirely rational. That does not, however, enable me to stop feeling them. This is part of the reason I don't go to friends with these kinds of things and choose post to a public blog instead. My friends would never understand.
Three nights ago, as the two of us were settling into bed for the night, S.P. asked if I had class tonight. The question itself is mildly distressing as I'd been obsessing about my final exam on Tuesday and I'll be graduating on Saturday. It should have been blindingly obvious, should he pay even the slightest bit of attention, that NO, there was no class for me tonight. That's the first point.
He used this question to introduce an announcement that he would be eating dinner with out-of-town coworkers on Wednesday and that there was an office happy hour planned for tonight. His timing was not ideal. Declaring these plans to me as I'm about to doze off, in such an offhand way, is not the best way to send me off to dreamland. I was up most of the night. I went and slept in the living room. Disturbing my sleep is not good and does not help my mood. Several things about this announcement set me off.
1. Aside from the point made above, this happy hour is "scheduled" to end at 6pm. 6pm is when I get home, even when there is no class. So, whether or not I have class is entirely irrelevant.
2. Also, I know he won't be home when he says he will. He has no sense of timing. It's like dealing with a stoned person. It takes ages for him to get ready and go anyplace. Case in point - he told me he'd be home last night at 8. He was home at 10. I may not have been so mad if he'd actually stick to his promised timeline. But, I knew all along it would turn out that way. I was just disappointed to have it confirmed.
3. The next morning, when he kept needling me to ask what was wrong and I finally told him, he asked - sarcastically - if he should ask his boss not to schedule any more happy hours. Naturally, this is not what I would hope for. However, S.P. doesn't have to attend every office function. He's is constantly up his co-workers' asses, as if they were his best friends in all the world. I doubt they share his desperate need to be together every moment of every day. I'm exaggerating, of course, but you understand what I'm trying to get across.
4. I am sick and tired of his out-of-town visitors. Granted, he came here from another state. Part of the reason he feels so close to his coworkers (I'm assuming), is that the majority of them transferred here at the same time he did. But, in the months I've known him, he has had just as many "friends" come to see him. They are primarily young, skinny, single women. The last time I considered leaving him, it was because of his dinner with one of them.
That is the initial set of issues I can't seem to see my way past. Now, on to my behavior in response to my (perhaps unreasonable) rage.
I have already hinted at my initial reactions above. On Tuesday night, after my grueling exam, I came home to no fanfare, no dinner, and cat vomit on the carpet. Thanks, S.P., you're a real peach.
After scrounging up some dinner, I had a beer and relaxed a little. We started chatting about our day, etc. The topic of his dinner the following night came up and he asked me, "Is that okay?" One might suspect that, having asked this question, he would be interested in my response. Not so. He will do exactly as he likes, regardless of my opinion. To a certain extent, he should. And my reply to this question was, "yes." Of course he should feel free to eat dinner with his coworkers. I understand that there isn't anything wrong with that. When I answered him, I was telling the truth. That doesn't mean it didn't bother me or that I didn't feel threatened by his evening out. But, I have no right to ask (futile as it might be) that he not go to dinner. I intended, at the time, to control my actions the following night so that he would understand that when I say I'm okay with something, I mean it.
When I got into town from work last night, I went out to dinner alone, took a shower, and watched movies I can't watch when he's around (well, I intended to, but couldn't find anything really gory). But, the later it got and the more excuses he sent me, the more upset I became. I finally decided that I was exhausted and needed to sleep. I did not respond to his continual texts partially because I was becoming increasingly irritated and partially because I wasn't paying much attention to my phone.
This morning, I made every attempt to avoid him. I was still pissed off and didn't want to go to work angry. No need to start the day with a fight. And while he was walking his dog (who I fed and medicated and walked without appreciation), I wanted to slip away and just leave. But, I had said recently that I wouldn't do that. So, I found him outside and told him I was leaving. He demanded a hug and a kiss. I complied. However, as we parted I said, "See you later. Or maybe not. I have no idea when you'll be home." Granted, it likely wasn't the best choice of words, but it's true. I don't know when he will come home tonight. So, having been hurt by this last comment of mine, he followed me to my car. I asked him, as politely as I could, to leave me alone. I had no wish to argue publicly in the parking lot right before I left for work. His response was to slam my car door, storm off, and send me a long text about how I've been so mean to him.
And now I arrive at the sentiment that generated the title of this post. I remember it from a movie, but can't remember which one it's from. I have tried very hard to keep from fighting, to keep from name-calling, yelling, breaking things, hurting anyone, or even raising my voice. I've tried, albeit without much success, to make it understood that I believe his interactions outside the relationship are acceptable and healthy. His accusations that I've been mean to him and that I'm treating him as if he's been cheating are simply unfounded. He truly has no idea how cool I'm being. If I had any confirmation that he'd been untrue, the sheer terror of my wrath would make Freddy Krueger cringe. The entire apartment complex would know about it and someone, surely, would end up injured. I often turn my wrath upon myself, so this is not a threat to harm him or anyone he is involved with.
I remember once, when I was in a relationship with another guy in another city, years ago, I was so upset that I shattered every glass in the apartment on the kitchen floor and then proceeded to stomp, barefoot, on the shards until I was forcefully stopped. Yeah. I know how that sounds. Crazy, right? A little extreme at best. Clearly, that's not how a mature, rational, human being should behave. Guess what though. I'm medicated now. I go to a therapist. I don't break things or cut myself. I grew up. But, you may be able to see how my current behavior in response to being so angry I can't see properly, is quite an improvement.
So, tonight, S.P. has his happy hour, again with co-workers. I'm planning to go out with a friend, simply because I don't want to go home. How I miss my "space."
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