Is it worth it?

Some days, I want to cry, and if it weren't for the fact that I seemingly can't produce tears, I would.



I've come to that part of my relationship with Boyfriend where I have to make some hard decisions. Frankly, 75% of me is rallying for a break-up. The other, less rational 25% of me is pleading for me to stay with him.


This past weekend, I had the apartment mostly to myself. It was Female Roommate's birthday, so Male Roommate and I chipped in to get her a hotel room: and so Friday night (well, afternoon) left me alone in the apartment, guaranteed to be that way until noon or so on Saturday. Naturally, I informed Boyfriend of this situation (at the end of January, when this plan was conceived) and he decided to show up and spend the weekend with me. Being the way he is, he forgot this plan, and when I mentioned the emptiness of the apartment again Friday afternoon, he had to drop his furbeast with his mother (giving her zero notice, not that she really cares) and he came up here.

Now, his brakes start making a funny noise when he gets within the city limits, and we spend Saturday finding a suitable mechanic for his brakes (I told him during the holidays that the brakes needed to be fixed...But he didn't listen to me) and because he's so damn obsessed with the thought of his car being damaged, he can't piece together an entire sentence while we spend time together.

So, we drop his car off at the mechanic and walk to the neighborhood diner and got some coffee to warm up (because I'm still getting over a cold) and he proceeds to bitch about not wanting to get a cold from me. While sitting at the diner, he mentions that he thinks he will be returning to his place this evening.


What?


"Why?" I ask, ever-so-innocently, not trying to seem desperate.

"Well, I'm not sure, I have this nagging urge to leave." He casually mentioned, stirring the sugar into his burned diner coffee.

I'm sorry, what?!!? Why not just slap me in the face and leave now? I'm in the middle of a very busy time in my life: I don't know when I'll have free time to see him again. I go to see him 3 times as often as he comes to see me, and I stay with him 3 times longer than he stays with me. Doesn't anyone else see a problem with this?

I probe further, and he mentions that he doesn't really feel comfortable being in my apartment because I have two roommates- and I mention that I feel just as out of place in his apartment, but I stick it out. He completely ignores this fact, and spews out some kind of "I need to pick up my cat/demon" thing.

Enter: bitchstate.

We pick up his car, and all is well, he can think about something other than his motherfucking brakes, and we get dinner. We dive further into the "I feel alien in your apartment" issue, and nothing is resolved. I am too proud to say "I don't want you to go" and he is too stupid to pick up me emotionally on my knees begging. Great.

I will say this: I am not proud of my lack of communication skills. Okay?

Anyway, I keep checking my watch (as he mentioned that he wanted to leave town at 9 so he could get back to his precious beast for no reason in particular) and I mention that he's 15 minutes late for his appointment to leave town (in a totally bitchy tone). Then 30 minutes. While we were sitting there, I made up my mind to break up with him, and I considered dumping him as soon as he got me back to my apartment. I re-thought the decision because I have an expensive import CD of his- and I have no idea where it is. If I were to dump him, he'd demand to have it back, and frankly, I have no idea where it is. I decided to wait until after I had found that CD to dump his ass.

Finally, he stopped staring at his eggs and we paid the bill and he drove me back to the apartment. He stops the car in front of the apartment, and while he's mumbling about something that is completely uninteresting to me, I just kind of got out of the car (denying him a goodbye-kiss) and tell him goodbye, closing the door and going into the apartment.


That being said, I'm pretty sure my winning demeanor totally could have convinced him to stay.


I watched him drive away, and I was kind of hoping that he would have picked up my anger from the display, and followed me to the apartment: nope. He just drove home- to be with his stupid fucking waste of animal flesh.

After crying for a while on Male Roommate's shoulder because I was so sure that I would dump Boyfriend. Male Roommate has been lobbying for such a break-up for months, and he deeply feels that Boyfriend is a) a waste of flesh and b) not good enough for me. He spent the next hour tearing the apartment apart looking for that CD while I dipped into the "heartbreak juice." "Heartbreak juice" is the name that male roommate gave to our bottle of rum that seems to only be touched when any of the three of us are heartbroken- it's been sorely abused between the three of us in the past three months, and I'm sad to report that male roommate had to buy a second bottle of heartbreak juice. :o(

I eventually put up an away message that was so unguarded that I was surprised by my own candid message: "sleeping away a bad night." I normally would not be so frank about being upset by this whole episode.

I eventually fell asleep, only to be plagued by a night-terror (gee, I love nightmares that I can't escape). I woke up to a message from Boyfriend, it goes as follows.

Boyfriend (1:23:48 PM): it was a mistake to leave yesterday, and all in all I wish I were there instead
autoresponse from Me (1:23:48 PM): sleeping away a bad night.
Boyfriend (1:25:03 PM): although it was better that I picked the cat up again after leaving it with them on such short notice, and I have a ton of laundry to do (you also), and I only sat like a lump for a little while and then went to sleep
Boyfriend (1:25:33 PM): but now instead of feeling a little depressed and out of place, I feel more depressed and not much less out of place
Boyfriend (1:25:43 PM): so now I also feel stupid



I feel a perverse vindication.


I'm a mess, to say the least. Part of me is screaming "you've had problems with him since you started dating him! Just give up and move on!" And, the other part is touched by his [implied] regret for leaving me after only spending 24 hours (after I cut a week out of my life and vacation time to be with him). It doesn't help that Male Roommate continues to press for an end to the relationship and Boyfriend thinks that I'm quite content to move in with him.


I made a pact with myself to NOT "train" a partner after Ex-Boyfriend J, mostly because I saw the ill-effects of training on the human psyche, and I never wanted to be the cause of such a train wreck. I have always wanted to be the cool girlfriend, and frankly, after Ex-Boyfriend C, I just haven't been able to be cool.

However, I've begun to wonder if "training" is really that bad: after all, I might actually be happy if I were forcing Boyfriend to treat me like a princess. No, I don't want to be a high-maintenance bitch, but getting that treatment would certainly be preferable to the current situation. AND, I might not be such a raving bitch about every little thing because every little thing wouldn't piss me off like they do, now.


Anyway, since Male Roommate was pushing me so hard to break-up with Boyfriend, I decided to not break-up with Boyfriend, but instead wait until he found just the right apartment that he wants, and make the decision before he signs the lease. I find that fair enough: it gives me enough time to fully weigh out my anger and enough time for him to make it up to me.

not in the next 60 days

I'm just so frustrated. I suppose this is the kind of frustration that sends people over the edge because I just keep thinking how wonderful it would be to completely torch everything. Everything.



And Boyfriend makes it harder and harder for me. At least I can appropriately stall for two months.

where's my handbasket?

Events have changed, and here I stand, staggering toward an exit.



Not getting into too much detail, let's just say that it's become an advantageous time for me to move in with Boyfriend- not to mention the fact that I seriously can't stand another conversation where I have to defend my choice to continue living with Male Roommate and Female Roommate.



Male Roommate wants to kick Female Roommate out, which would leave just Male Roommate and I: which is fine, we have enough space and money to cover our costs, BUT, Male Roommate is quite concerned that his dating possibilities will be severely limited if he lives with JUST me: there's just no way to comfort the mind of a woman when her boyfriend is living with one other woman. Having just ended a relationship, he's looking to get back into the game, and he's concerned that I might hinder him. That doesn't mean that I need to find a place to live -now- that just means that in April, he wants to make the change- possibly scaling down to a small apartment for just him and his computers.


For me, that means either living alone- which I don't want to do for various reasons, OR living with Boyfriend- which I also have various reasons for wanting to avoid that situation.

The main problem with Boyfriend is that while he makes a great companion, he makes for a terrible lover. We did our normal Tuesday-Thursday thing, and we kissed each other for the first time Wednesday...around 11pm.


Problem!


Moreover, after a few minutes, he decided to go back to watching episodes of a show on DVD- DVD! He can watch the next episode tomorrow, when I'm not there- not during the only time he has me for the week. Do I really want to deal with that for a long long time?



UGH.

the kiss of death on your door, that's what you get for taking home a whore

I've started writing poetry again, and it's quite strange- it's nothing like I've ever written.


Frankly, I find myself kind of veering in a direction I used to really loathe: complete free form with total disregard for any traditional rules.




That being said, I had another disappointing weekend with Boyfriend. He showed up 6 (6!!!) hours late, was completely lacking in romance (not that he is romantic), and I'd get a little more in depth, but that's the talk for late-night conversations with a close friend.


I just keep wondering why I stay with him- am I being a completely fake bitch because I like him for very superficial reasons, or, am I coming to terms with the fact that maybe a nation of divorce isn't such a bad thing: I've never been married, but I can't help but look at so many marriages forged on the basis of money and security and other superficial things...and notice that people stuck it out- divorce rates were quite low. Is that a product of a strict culture, the prying eyes of law, or religion meddling in private relationships? Or, is it the sign of people who forged a marriage much the way one would forge a business contract.


I will cook, clean, and birth if you work, earn, and don't beat the shit out of me. For ever.


Either way, I find myself "sticking it out" with Boyfriend for stupid reasons...and I find myself really wanting to leave him for stupid reasons.



I'm really tired, really upset, and really confused. If I were closer to Male Roommate's mother, I might give her a call and go to lunch or something. She's so sweet, but I think my musings would be completely lost on her.


ugh. Valentines Day creeps closer- and now I'm locked in to seeing St. Etienne...blech. Moreover, I have no way of avoiding the day, and I will be forced to be with Boyfriend.


What do I even get him? I'm stretched for money, right now...and I don't want to get him something stupid. I can't ignore it- I mean, we haven't talked about it.


I suppose I should call him or something. But, after this weekend, even the thought of his voice in my ear kind of makes my skin crawl.

Home

I had this very strong urge over the past two days: so strong I nearly said it aloud to Boyfriend, not even knowing what it meant.



I want to go home.


Strange, isn't it? I don't have a home. I'm homeless. Yes, I have a place to live. I have a bed to sleep in and a roof that keeps the rain off of my head. I have all the things I need to exist.


I say that I don't have a home because where I live is not home. It is the place where I sleep at night. Boyfriend's place is even farther from being home- as when I am there, I can only faintly dream of going to such a place that could be called home. The house where I grew up is quite the opposite of home, and it feels more like an enemy camp than a place of warmth and love. Even during my last stint living in the building, I just kept thinking (or being told, it's all rather blurry) that I was a guest: this place was not mine.


I suppose I just would like some comfort. I fully believe that family and home are what you make them. Home doesn't have to be where you were raised, and family absolutely doesn't have to be who shares similar DNA. I consider Male Roommate and Female Roommate to be more of my family than my physical parents ever were, but yet: this is not home.


I kind of become depressed in the moments when I seek to be at home. It's usually accompanied by the urge to run into my mother's arms. Not my mother, that is. A mother. A warm, loving, welcome hug of respite and care. No worries, there. You're home. Away from the weary slavery of life.



So, it seems strange to me (and perhaps a bit lucky) that my biological mother did send an email to me...and I read it (against the urgings of Male Roommate). I know why he tells me to delete those emails- I always become an angry recluse, firing hateful poetry onto innocent pages. I keep repeating, aloud, that I find the fact that she is totally clueless as to the source of my anger both insulting, and probably the reason for the perpetuation of my anger. I find it lucky that on the very day that I find myself frail enough in spirit to consider placing a call...in hopes of finding this elusive home, that I'm reminded of why I am homeless, and why every time I seek that kind of comfort, it only lasts but a fleeting moment before another wave of bitterness crashes over the whole set.


I mean that- it is a set. We are players with rehearsed lines. Forgot to memorize your lines? Or, perhaps you memorized them, and don't care to live out a pre-scripted and pre-approved life. Perhaps you are happier not being a pawn. Outcast! Anger!



...depression.



I often feel the tuggings of such a depression, and I often fear that I might fall in the hole, again. I think that's why I don't ever leave Boyfriend: inasmuch as he relies on me to soothe his afflictions, I find that being needed and wanted soothes mine. I may feel ignored at times, but never cast away. He's never going to tell me I am naught but a guest in his home, life. I'm not relying on him to keep myself out of depression, no...I just know that the first sign that I'm tumbling into that awful pit will be when I tell him we can't be together. It will be the precise moment that I decide that I want to be alone.


Isn't that the first sign that I'm in trouble: refusing the contact of others? I don't want them to see me like this, emotionally frail, physically week, mentally listless. I don't want anyone to catch that horrible, horrible feeling of laying in the cesspool of one's own life. And life is that: a cesspool. You life, subjected to the rulings and arbitrations of others, only to die, and face the uncertainty of rulings and arbitrations from another. How can you not feel as though it would be best to live the life of an animal, oblivious to your subjection meaningless maxims. You live, you eat, you fuck, you shit. Eventually, you die, maybe. Probably. Who knows? Who cares? There is life to be lived, food to be eaten, others to fuck and waste to shit.

Are humans just animals who have forgotten the point of living? We look at our companions and laugh at their stupidity, but shouldn't our laughs be turned inward? Shouldn't we focus on our own pointless obsession with the unimportant tassels of life?


The point of all of this miring is: I feel strange in my own being, like I woke up one day in a totally foreign existence. I look at my things, the people around me, my situation, and think Who am I? Where am I? Why do I want so desperately to torch everything, from the distant memories to the chair I am sitting in? Will releasing fire onto everything quell my rage, infinite sadness?


I suppose I don't do it because I'm fairly certain, the fire wouldn't cleanse, rather, I would find my condition much deteriorated.

Decisions, Decisions...

Today is one of those days where I look at Boyfriend and think I can't fucking stand you.


It's not that he's a bad person: I think the problem is that I'm a bitch. I suppose it just really really bothers me right down to my core that he hasn't learned the number one way to show that he cares: to spend time with me.


When I have Tuesday and Wednesday off (which is every week), I hop onto the public transportation system, and get to him at 11:30 on Tuesday. I have to leave at 11:30 on Thursday: this means, we have a total of 48 hours together.

20 hours= sleeping, because if he doesn't get 10 hours in, he can't function.
16 hours= working- and that's fine with me.

2 hours=his lunch break, but he watches tv
4 hours=his grooming time. yes, four...over the course of two days. four hours.


that leaves 6 hours left to hang out.

1 hour=shopping for crap that doesn't need to be purchased -today-
1.5 hours=Dr. Strangelove, and while I wanted to eventually see it, last night was not the night.
3 hours= State of the Union address and commentary
.5 hours=rubbing out the knot in his back.



Yes, that is how I spent my time with him. Other weeks, we spend that 6 hours mostly on shopping for crap that doesn't need to be purchased and other television ventures. I'm not saying that I demand that we go out: I'm saying that I wish I got at least as much attention as his cat...afterall, I'm not ruining his stuff.



Needless to say, as I walked toward the train this morning, he was left with no kiss nor sign of affection. My affection for him wanes a little every time I see him. He has absolutely no sense of adventure or play. I think he spend over an hour of his time on Tuesday fixing the resolution on the corner of his television, and there I was, thinking God, leave it alone! Can't you fix this on Thursday evening, when I'm not here?


Apparently, not. You know, I'm not looking for any kind of intense romance, or anything like that. If I had been after that, I wouldn't have started seeing him- he's the epitome of safety. But, I've found that what I prized (his stability) has now become the bane of my existance. How can I live with a man who will drive me to insanity because he's so obsessed with meaningless details- like deciding if he prefers the television brightness to be set at -11 or -12.

It's days like these when I think back to each of my ex's, and wonder what I'm doing with my life. How can I enjoy my life when I'm with a man who wants to further fall into the depths of boring details, all the while starting a family -right away-



I've tried to break this off twice, and twice he's thwarted me. Third time's a charm? Do I really want to fly back into the dating pool? I've seen it, and it's murky. He's everything but exciting- and do I really need to be excited?


...decisions, decisions