Kalamity K

The Daily Chaos of Kalamity K
2005-05-06 04:20:24 (UTC)

FAT

It took under five minutes before we dissolved into a
mean, hurtful argument tonight that culminated in me
slamming - nay, SLAMMING - the front door and leaving.
Except that I stood outside the door for five minutes in a
daze and then went back in.

I'd just come home from the symphony; I was volunteering
tonight and we are going to the performance on Saturday so
I wasn't staying after I volunteered. I got home around
2130 or so. We had barely e-mailed during the day. I was
actually looking forward to seeing him when I got home.
Apparently he was looking forward to seeing me, but then
again, I think he always does. That should make me happy.

I walked in the door and said hi, and maybe a couple of
small other things. The other day I saw a bill on the
board by the door that indicated the last month's bill
hadn't been paid. Today on the floor by the mail slot I
found our cable bill that said last month's hadn't been
paid. I picked that one up and, still standing in the
doorway, asked why it said that. The cable normally comes
out with the rent so it is weird. So, still in the
doorway, having said only a few little things, I picked up
the other bill and asked why it said we had a 3-month bill
to pay them for.

It blew up into a quickly escalating fight. We even got
into a fight over the fact that I DIDN'T want to order
pizza for dinner. I put a pizza in the oven instead and
got flak for how of course I was going to make something
instead of ordering it (the implication being I was doing
it to spite him). I answered that if he wanted to buy
something he could order it. No, I could order it if I
wanted it. So I said, I'm making dinner. Whatever. That
was wrong, apparently. He got mad at me b/c he felt like
I was ignoring him and coming in like a steamroller and
not even saying hi before I started attacking him about
not being organised with the bills. I was ignoring him
and going to go and make dinner instead of coming and
sitting and talking with him.

It didn't take much more than a few seconds before I was
yelling. I said some means things including more than a
few "fuck offs" and probably one "fuck you". I do think I
called him pathetic (though when it's done back to me,
he's never calling ME pathetic, just my actions, even if
he said "that's pathetic" or "you're pathetic"). I do
know later on I said he can't get off his pathetic sorry
ass to go out of the house and leave me alone. But that
was when we were talking.

I wasn't in the house five minutes when he said I ruined
his night. He was relaxing and now I came home and ruined
his night and got him worried about the bills. When I was
in the kitchen getting the pizza from the freezer his bag
of french fries fell out and he makes a big noise
about "how much noise can a person make in five minutes"
and it was quiet before I came home or something. How it
wasn't normal to go and make dinner before sitting and
talking with him. I couldn't stop myself. My answers:
I'm putting the pizza in the oven to cook before I talk to
you. I'm hungry, it's nine thirty, shoot me. Should I
come and sit down and talk to you for a half hour before I
put dinner in the oven? Yes, he said, that would be
normal. I didn't even say hello before I was in the
kitchen. Bullshit. When I asked him that last, I went
and made all pretty on the couch, in an exagerated pose
(well I was behind the couch, pretending I was sitting,
doesn't matter).

When I finished putting the pizza in the oven, I found
some leftovers I had from the other day (couscous) and had
a couple of bites. I didn't eat all day. I was hungry.
I had two bites and was trying to be quiet b/c I knew he'd
have a comment about it. He did. As I was putting it
away, I heard him say angrily at me from the living
room: "You're so fat you can't even wait until the pizza
is done to eat."

I walked out of the kitchen. Stood and stared at him for
at least 15 seconds. Stared. Dumbfounded. A million
things went through my head to scream. A million urges to
throw things, including the couscouse which I had had in
my hand at the moment of the comment, and to throw them
directly at his head (including a stained glass angel that
I mercifully left alone), went through me before I went
out and stared. He looked at me: "What great comment are
you going to come back with this time?"

"Nothing," was my reply.

"Thank god for once," he answered.

I walked into the bedroom. Grabbed some stuff and threw
it in a bag and walked out. He's non-comprehending. When
I tell him I'm leaving (where? my parents god...), he's
flabbergasted. He doesn't know why.

"Because you just touched a cardinal something that you
should never touch." He makes a bit of fun of it. I'm
livid. I slam the door as I leave - harder than I've ever
slammed it before. I can hear him talking to himself when
I go, "what was that?" etc., etc., etc. I go back in b/c
he said something mean about me and then I leave again and
stare at the door for five minutes.

The only reason I didn't leave is because I have nowhere
to go. If I was being beat up, I would have a place to
go. I don't have a place to go b/c of what I am
experiencing. I don't trust my parents enough any more.
And when we talked afterwards, I told him as much. "If I
trusted them enough I'd have left months ago..." Stupid
fucking bitch for opening your fat fucking mouth. I knew
I shouldn't say it. I said it anyway b/c by then
I "trusted" him again.

I come back and I sit down and we talk. Great. I told
him that things literally have to start changing overnight
b/c the things in me that were keeping me here that
outweighed the leaving have reversed and that I literally
think I'm three weeks away from just saying that's it for
good. I told him that it scares the hell out of me but I
can do all the negatives on my own, make myself feel bad
and stupid and fat and ugly. He was just frustrated. I
don't care.

But he mumbled at me to take off my shoes. I wore them in
the house. I've gotten lazy, I admit, but I also admit
that I wear them in the house when I'm angry at him b/c I
know it bothers him. Of course, I think I taught him to
take his shoes off in the house. Fucking bitch-faced
moron that I am. Using my own rules against me, he is.

Then, later, when the pizza was ready, I brought it out
(he was checking the bank accounts). He had just gone on
line and I turned the TV on and was watching a bit of ER.
Literally ten seconds. He comes wandering out and is all
small-ball upset that I'm watching TV. What, I can't
watch while I wait for you to come back? He was coming
out to sit with me and have the pizza but it was okay.
What? You are doing the bank accounts, made a point of
telling me he was doing that before he ate. Whatever. So
he goes back and does them.

There was a new bottle of hot sauce in the fridge. I
opened it and used it and brought it to the table by the
TV. Granted, I didn't look very hard to see if the old
one was still left. I assumed, stupidly, that it was
dregs at best b/c he never buys a new one until the old
bottle has water in it to get out the dregs kind of
thing. He comes out and sees me when he's done the
banking (most of it already was okay and we think the
cable people misplaced the cheque b/c it never was taken
out but it was paid with the rent, both in cheques). "Why
did you open the new bottle of hot sauce when there is an
old one?" I don't know. I'm sorry. "Why would you do
that?" I don't know, I'm sorry. "I can't believe you'd
do that." Okay, if this is the worst thing that has ever
happened to you, I'm sorry for that. "What was wrong with
the old one?" What was wrong was that your fat bitch of a
girlfriend made a mistake, that's what's wrong with it.
He wasn't yelling - it was worse. It was that
incredulous, calm, you-dumb-fuck voice that he uses a lot,
like an action is so out of the realm of the possible as
to be absurd and/or preposterous and just unfathomable and
unimaginable and just non-comprehensible. He picked up
his pizza and the hot sauce. "Perhaps you should use the
old bottle," I said, granted it was snide. "I'm going
to," he said.

I tried to point out that we just had an argument and one
of my complaints is that he isn't trying to hold back and
he immediately goes and rags my ass over a fucking bottle
of hot sauce. He disputes he was ragging my ass. He
disputes he rolled his eyes when I was trying to explain
something about the fucking hot sauce. He disputes a lot
of things, I said back, including that you ever do
anything, that you ever said anything about taxes at my
parents' house, that he didn't roll his eyes, etc. I must
be fucking blind. Or a liar, since if he's not doing it I
must be making it up. I think the eye roll might have
come when I asked him, when he disputed he was ragging on
me, if he could hear himself, if he knew what he sounded
like when he spoke to me.

I don't really know if he gets what I'm saying. We talked
again and I pointed out that these talks are happening
more and more frequently with less and less changing, on
either side. I acknowledged I can be a tidal wave that
just pounds him and that I'm sorry about that. We did
actually talk for a few minutes in there. But I tried to
tell him that this just isn't working and that he's my
best friend and I love him and all of this but that we
don't have a relationship. We have a friendship and we
happen to live with each other and if that makes him
happy, fine, but it's killing me and that is no two ways
about the fact that I don't think we are capable of the
changes we have to make to make us BOTH happy. I said
that I thought our current situation made him happy but
not me. He said he doesn't really distinguish like I do
between being a best friend and my boyfriend b/c it's all
wrapped up together. God we have some serious issues. I
told him I need us to be equal - not like him being my dad
one minute and my son the next. Yeah, I said that. That
one about killed me. I thought maybe a change in terms
would help him understand what I meant when I
said "patronising" and "four year old" in previous go-
rounds. When we started talking, I got pissed b/c I said
I was compromising by sitting down and talking and I was
doing it FOR HIM, b/c he knew I hate sitting down right
away and talking when I'm mad (and it never works when I'm
mad b/c I don't listen and I don't care and all of this
and I go off and scream and yell), the least he could do
would be to MEET ME HALF WAY and cut to the chase. He
loves to ramble on and on and equivicate and wish and wash
and I said just fucking stop it and say your point. He
didn't like being told how to talk. I said I didn't like
being told to sit and talk and that I was so he could meet
me fucking half way. I finally just got so fed up right
at the beginning I yelled, "I am doing something JUST FOR
YOU. Is the concept so foreign that you would do
something JUST FOR ME in return?"

And on Sunday, during our big huge fight, it was more of
the same, but way worse. He told me I wasn't welcome in
my own house more than once. Many bad things were said.
I have to try to remember that...

But today, when we were talking, he said I know what he
means and doesn't mean when he says things and is
frustrated. No, actually, I don't. I used to but I don't
think I know any more. I don't know him any more like I
used to, or thought I did. I couldn't even name his
favourite colour. I don't have one, he said, you know
that. Great. I can't even use a fucking example properly
was my reply. A relationship is suppose to be the soft
place to fall, the place that makes you feel good, not
upset. He accused me off the bat when we were fighting of
not being able to stand him, of ignoring him, this and
that. And what about the video games? You hardly turn
them off when I come in the door. You hardly say hi. I
always say hi, he says. Well, then, if that's the
standard, I truly met it b/c I said hi when I came in.

I mean, I can't believe we are arguing about this stuff.
The stuff keeping me here is no longer outweighing the
stuff forcing me away. I told him I really hated him when
I came back the first time. When we talked I told him I
wished I hated him b/c it would make leaving easy. But I
don't hate him so I'll never leave. He told me if I
though I had to leave - and he believes it's a potential
outcome at this point in time - that he wants me to do
what's best for me, whether I believed him or not. I
believe him, I said, b/c spoken as a best friend I believe
you, but not as my boyfriend. This is where the
conversation started about how I distinguish between the
two and he doesn't. It hurts me and not him. I don't
know. That's what I see anyway.

I want to believe him. I want to believe that he does
want what is best for me (and yes, I see the inherent
problems in this particuarl exam, evidently) and I do
believe that. But I also believe he doens't think that
far through things on most occasions. I feel like I'm
living with two people - but not really Jekyll and Hyde
quality... just the quality of being two separate people.
I often feel like I am two people. I feel like I live
with two people. It makes for crowded goings and
confusing comprehensions. And in truth, I hate it, b/c I
don't know if I'm coming or going AND IT MAKES ME FEEL SO
MOTHER FUCKING STUPID THAT I CAN'T DISCERN AND/OR DECIPHER
WHO I AM TRULY DEALING WITH. I hate that. It does more
to make me feel stupid and worthless than almost anything
else there is. So mother fucking stupid.

I've fallen asleep a million times writing this. I have
to hit the hay. I'm fucking exhauste and tomorrow at work
is just going to suck. Big time.

Make this stop. One way or the other, please, please,
just make us sort our bullshit out. Please, we both
deserve better than this. Please.

K2




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