A thought

The problem with living with an opinionated man is the tendency to listen. It's not so much that I take his opinions as my own - I've always been strong and level headed enough to make my own decisions. It's that you eventually start avoiding the things he has a strong opinion about because you just don't want to listen to it anymore.

Today I asked a simple question. He was watching a show about UFOs and I asked if he believed in them. And he went into a spiel that lasted an hour at least. The thing is that it always becomes about how he is so much better, so much smarter, knows so much more than anyone else; how everyone else is living their lives wrong; how the masses are idiots.

I'm all for opinions but I don't understand how someone with such strong thoughts and ideas can't see that others have equally strong thoughts and ideas. And his are not always automatically right. But he doesn't listen. No one else knows the way he knows.

The irony is that when he talks about other people's narcissism and/or closed mindedness, all he's saying to me is that he is closed minded and narcissistic. And that's just sad. For someone who is so intelligent, it is sad that he can't see beyond his own thoughts and ideas.

Another problem with living with an opinionated man is that you start avoiding things you like and want to do so you can avoid the conversation. I don't want to hear about how shitty my taste in movies and music is. It's what I like. I don't need to read your books, I don't need to feel the same way, I don't need to become anyone's shadow.

I need to stop doing that. I need to do what I want, go out when I need, move as much as I can, cook and read and listen and dance and pick my nose whatever way I want and if he has a problem with it he's going to have to find a way to deal with it.

It saddens me that I'm here again. This is where I was with Karl. But the difference is I don't need to run off and be alone. I need to be me, no matter where I am. He can do the running if he wants... I'm sticking.

Something in between

I don't understand you. You think you're so damn intelligent and I'm not denying that you have some smarts but in some ways you are downright stupid. Did you really think I would keep doing everything for you and not expect something in return, even the slightest gratitude? Do you honestly feel that turning into a basket case because I don't reply to a text but then ignoring me when you know I'm not out doing whatever it is that you think a whore like me does when you're not home is going to make me love you more? Is waking me up at 8am on fucking Sunday fucking morning to tell me I don't love you and I'm probably in love with someone else and asking if I am I going to leave you is really the way to make me want to stay? Do you think that not touching me, not letting me touch you, denying the fact that you don't touch me and then still not fucking touching me is what I'm looking for from you? You think I don't want that more than some fucking Valentine's gift? You live in some fucked up world in your head that has completely different rules that I don't understand but I'm supposed to figure it out myself and be the perfect woman at all times? Fuck you.
***

You know what, me? I think it is me. Last night I was wondering if maybe the reason I keep ending up with men like this is because I'm doing something wrong. And I am. I'm getting sucked in by words and bullshit and when I'm left here with my heart dangling off my sleeve by a thread I snip it and walk away. I so fucking want to walk away right now. When he gets on like this it drives me out of my fucking mind. But I'm not going anywhere today. I'm sticking this out for a while longer, if only because I don't have much of an alternative.

Goddammit, I can't believe I fucking did this to myself again. This is the last time, I'm telling you. The last time. The next man is going to give me some fucking respect and consideration and not be such a damn dick all the time. But he also won't be a wimpy sap. Something in between, I just want something in between.

Motherfuckingfuck

Fuck.

Prophesize this

He said I don't love him anymore because I didn't fold his underwear before I put them away. And because I stopped sending goodnight texts. And because I didn't want to put cream on his back yesterday. But apparently waking me at 8am on Sunday to tell me this and then blasting Family Guy on the bedroom TV will make it all better. Fuck me. Christ.

What happened?

Where did you go? What happened to the man I fell in love with? Is he still in there somewhere? Or did I make him up? I miss him and I want him to come back. But I'm not even sure if he exists anymore. And that's what scares me the most.

"That thing"

Love, Loss and What I Learned

This is a post I read on a website I discovered today. She talks about "that thing", that doubt that can creep into a relationship. This is what scares me most after the fighting Jeff and I did last week, especially the commitment talk. I'm afraid I will catch "that thing" again. And I don't know if there is a cure for it.

Happiness

The secret isn't getting what you want, it's wanting what you get.

The problem?

I was going to say that maybe the problem is me but that's too obvious. Of course the problem is me, but not in the way I used to think it was. Not in the way it used to be. I think too much. And I spent too many years in a drug induced haze, thinking everything was wonderful, concentrating on all the good, avoiding all the bad. I believed in him before I knew him. I fell for him before I checked him. And I think I might have been wrong. And it's too late to take it back.

But haven't I been down this road before? Before the drugs, before the jump, before the anti-depressants, before the unemployment, before the move and the next move and the next.

Do I expect too much? Do I expect him to be perfect? Do I expect me to be perfect? I'm so sick of thinking and worrying about it. I need to just live. And right now I live here. No matter what else, right now I live here. And I need to make the best of it.

The struggle

When I was looking at Tumblr earlier, I was shocked to see someone that I've always liked and care about making an abomination of a choice. And it brought to mind what Jeff said in his post the other day about condoning someone's behaviour with my silence. Obviously this isn't my choice and it's not my place to tell someone else what to do with their lives but holyfuckingjesuschrist. Cause and affect are completely obvious in this situation. And that makes me very very sad.

So, do I continue to silently condone? Or do I unfollow? Let's look at it this way: if I was going through a terrible hardship in my life and someone who had always supported me through my ups and downs was to walk away just because they didn't agree with something they really didn't know anything about, how would I feel? But if I sit here in silence and don't take even the smallest stand for what I deeply believe in, what does that say about me?

Just sometimes

Sometimes I doubt that we are going to make this work. And that makes me sad because there is nothing wrong that can't be fixed. And I love him, I really really do. And, in his way, I believe he loves me. But he doesn't want to relinquish even the slightest bit of control. If he won't open the door, I fear soon I will stop knocking. And I fear even more that that's exactly what he wants.

Look around

I'm sitting in the living room of mine and Jeff's apartment. As I was writing the last post and stopped for a little teary break, I started to look around and something really caught my attention. There is nothing here that is mine. I have some books and dvds on one shelf of five. My throw blanket is on the back of the futon. That is it. Literally, in my home that is all that is mine. He says we bought pictures together but the truth is we only paid for them together, he picked them out. And everything else is his. And that's the way he likes it.

Deal breakers

Obviously there is good and bad in everyone, in every relationship. And, whether we acknowledge them or not, we all have our own absolutes that we can't live with or can't live without. Infidelity, dishonesty, religious beliefs, physical attributes; hell, according to Seinfeld, even the size of someone's hands can be enough reason to call the whole thing off.

I've been thinking about deal breakers lately. Some of my deal breakers in the past? Well, Karl was a jerk and with him I was someone I didn't like very much. Fabian couldn't love me; Ian couldn't like me. I couldn't stand what a pansy Rob was and the day I saw him interacting with his brothers was the day I knew without a doubt that I didn't want him in my life.

I haven't had any deal breakers with Jeff. It's been close, recently it was very close on a couple of issues but I'm hoping we can work them out. But there's one thing that we just can't seem to find a balance with. Affection.

It's not that I want him to be all over me all the time but do I really want to spend the rest of my life barely being touched? And I'm not talking about sex; our sex life is fine. Although even then, except for the rare oral foreplay, we barely touch anything other than genitals.

I need to be with someone I can hug, someone I can lean against and snuggle into in bed. I want to be kissed, I want a hand on my knee or a head in my lap, I want to be with someone who doesn't feel like it's a chore to put his arm around me or give me a kiss on the cheek. I guess what it really is is intimacy. You might want to say that he just doesn't want to let his guard down and I do hope it will get better in time. But what if it doesn't? What if what we have is all we'll ever have? And how long do I wait to find out? Honestly, the thought keeps me awake at night. Far too frequently for my liking. And I hate that fucking pillow.

Poop

Okay, well, I just opened this up because I wanted to talk about something but I can't seem to remember what that something was. I might be losing my mind. I might have already lost it. And it's kinda bugging me.

Surprise surprise

This isn't turning out the way I thought it would, he isn't the person I thought he'd be.

Remind me

Remind me of the time when I first moved to Newfoundland that I didn't think I'd survive it. How I cried so hard that I thought my head would explode. How a big part of me wished that it would. Remind me that I made it through, that things got better, that the hard times passed and, after a long long road, living there was actually pleasant. Oh, please... oh, please remind me. Because I don't know if I can make it through this.