What the fuck? Day two of some bullshit drama at my house.
My whole day is great. My job is great. My friends at work are great. The kids I work with are great. Everything is just so much fun until Mr. Soggy Ass Attitude has to talk shit.
I probably sound like a whiny little bitch, but guess what? This is MY journal and I can say whatever I want. I mean, this is the only place I have at this point to vent when I’m sad or frustrated or just full of joy.
Anyway, I’m getting ready for work and guess who is yelling at the kids? Yep. Him. While I’m brushing my teeth, he’s giving my daughter a bath because she’s just gone #2. Ew. So while she’s crying about being in the bathtub so early in the morning, I offer advice, and he loses it. He goes off about how he doesn’t need my help and how I’m this and that. Whatever. So I walk out the door for work while he’s busy. No goodbyes. I’m not walked out. Nothing but frustration.
He calls about fifteen minutes later as I’m nearing my freeway exit. Once I’m off the freeway, I drive into a long stretch of road to the middle of nowhere. Miles past any place a phone will get reception. I talk to him for a minute and tell him I don’t want to fight. Then I tell him a call is coming in that I’ve been expecting. He knows it’s important. But what does he say? “Yeah, whatever, fucking liar,” as if I didn’t want to talk to him. This bastard now has me fuming because once I hang up with this call, I won’t be able to call him again. Way to piss me off before work. Congrats dude.
Now, while I’m upset writing this, I know I’m not truly an angry person. I’m one of the most patient and loving people anyone could ever meet. I go in to work with the same personality that I always have. I don’t let anyone see that I’m bothered. And I get to working.
My co-worker, who is honestly one of my favorite people in this whole world right now, and I take off for our other location. We drive over and have another incredible talk about life. I feel like she just gets me. But I don’t talk about the butthole at home that’s been irritating me for the past 20 hours. I just carry on.
We get to our work location and I have a phenomenal day. Much better day than the day before. By the time we drive back to our office and it’s time for me to go home, I’ve already forgotten about my shitty morning.
But then I drive home. As usual, I call home from the road. There’s no happy voice on the line. Just a grumpy old troll. He’s brief and rude and then apologizes, saying he’s just kidding. Yay! I should be totally happy now, right? I guess. Again, I just brush that shit off and I drive the rest of the way home.
My whole family is outside when I pull up. How cool. I’m getting this sweet greeting from all of my kids and my future husband. Nope. They wanted to use the car to go get something to eat because our truck is dead. Okay. I tell them to hop in. He suggested that I stay home because I looked tired, but damn it, I wanted to go. I was still pretty happy from my good day at work. I just wanted to roll with.
We go get some gas and go to the bank. By now, he’s bitching because I corrected him on something he said. For fucks sake – are you kidding me!? I asked what his problem is and guess what? It’s me! What a shocker, right? So I remain quiet. He wants me to pump the gas and I do. I’m staying quiet, not getting mad. All I’m doing is existing and thinking at this point. I’m thinking I hate fucking feeling like this. I hate having some rude asshole around who says in front of my kids that I’m the problem. I’m the only issue he has. Like, shut the fuck up, cry baby. No one is being mean to you. Whatever.
I ask where he wants to go for food. He tells me to choose. So I do. And once in the parking lot, he gets all huffy and tells me to get back in the car because he wants to eat somewhere else. What. The. Fuck. Okay. So I get in and I make the comment that he should have just told me what he wanted instead of making me guess. I said I couldn’t deal with it today. Apparently that is a no-no and I can’t speak my fucking mind because he told me to turn around and go home. But did I go? Nope. I went to get food for the kids. I asked if he wanted anything and he said no. So I didn’t order him a fucking thing. To be fair, I didn’t order anything for myself either. I was so pissed that I wasn’t even hungry at the time. I offered several times to get him something before leaving there, and he refused, so fuck it. I drove us home.
We’ve been home for several hours now and I just can’t. I can’t deal with him. I refuse to apologize to him because I genuinely don’t think I did anything wrong. He’s being a stubborn asshole too and won’t talk to me. Instead, he’s hidden himself away in the room and I’m out in the living room listening to the kids bicker. I don’t have the energy to intervene, honestly. I am just so done with today.
It’s got me wondering. See, this isn’t the first time I’ve found us like this. I think we’ve just both gotten to the point of not giving a fuck when the other person is mad. And that’s quite tragic. I went from being head over heels in love with him yesterday, talking to other people about our wedding, etc. and now I don’t even care if we ever talk to each other ever again. I don’t know how to fix it, but I realize I’m at a point where I just don’t care to either. I’m so over kissing this man’s ass. I’m done apologizing. I’m done being nice. It is what it is. I don’t want to split up, but some days, I just wish he would leave and never come back. Like, I won’t leave him, but if he left me, I could deal with it.
Those thoughts lead me to think about what single life would be like. What would it be like to not have to answer to someone everyday of my life? What would it be like to do what I wanted, when I wanted? What would it be like to run my own life? These thoughts are dangerous. But I don’t really blame my mind for wandering there. I’ve spent almost six years with a single person. I’ve spent almost six years practicing monogamy – a concept that is not even something I really care for. Almost six years trying to make something work. And I know it can. But I’m done putting in the effort. What does that mean? How do I make sense of all these thoughts? I know I’m not going anywhere, and neither will he, but this kind of arguing – the kind where we both don’t give a fuck about what happens – is making me want something new.