Jesus Blows His Fucking Whistle...

One day, a month ago, he came home. I ran up to him and gave him a hug and told him how much we had missed him. 

The next day, he asked me to not do that again. "It just seems like you're being fake," he told me. "I can't handle it. Please stop."

A few days later, he sits me down and has a serious talk with me. "We just can't have sex now," he says. "Let's wait until I graduate in June, and then we can try again." I try not to cry and compose myself.

"Are we still a couple?" I ask. He nods. "Yes, just... no sex. Okay?" I agree, if only to allow him to finish nursing school. 

A few weeks ago, he comes home. I excitedly walk over to him, keeping my space, and tell him about something exciting that happened.

"Please give me some time when I get home," he asks. "I really need a little space."

A few days ago, we get into a huge fight. That Girl -- the one who is always hanging on his dick, always trying to get him to come over -- calls him and he goes upstairs to talk to her alone. "You can leave," I tell him. "If you'd rather be with her, that's fine. Go ahead. I'm cool."

I'm not cool, but I have to save face.

He says that he doesn't want to be with her, and so I nod and start to go upstairs. He blocks me and asks me why I'm upset. Eventually, I tell him -- I hate the "no contact" rule. I hate how we are. He's angry because I keep going back on my word -- "You said you were okay with the no sex thing. Why do you keep changing your mind when we agree on something?" I explain that I say OKAY because I want things to work out, but it's hard to change your entire demeanor and personality or suppress it for 6 months. We fight until the kid comes downstairs, crying. Then we stop. We stop but nothing is resolved.

He's a fighter. He's full of claims of logical fallacies and word etymologies and obscure references. He's pompous, and that's part of what I was attracted to, but when it's aimed at me it's no good. I'm used to letting him have his way; it's easier, and it usually doesn't matter. But this time I fight back, and he doesn't like it. He doesn't like being challenged. He doesn't like when I throw his own words back at him.

A few days go by, and I'm cold when I see him. Monosyllabic responses, no eye contact. He comes up to me tonight and tells me that, "We have to both live here and get along, so we'd may as well make the best of it." He says I'm too quiet, that I'm not myself.

"When I'm myself," I tell him, "You hate it. You told me that you didn't like the way I was when I was being myself."

There's no happy medium. Nothing I do makes any difference. He will hate that I am too friendly or too withdrawn. I tell him that it's just ME that he doesn't like.

"We can't have this conversation now," he says. "I have to go to work in an hour."

He does. He always has to go to work. I get it.

He loves laughing and joking with his school buddies. He studies with the girls and hangs out with the one guy. With me, he's stern and moody and just sad.

When we fought the other night, I said, "I do so much for you. I cook and clean and do laundry and talk to you mom and buy you food for work." And he said, "I don't ask you to do any of that." So I stopped doing his laundry. I stopped washing the dishes that are only his. 

He just came downstairs. "I suppose that pile of clothes of mine in the corner is because you're not doing my laundry anymore."

"That's what you said. You told me that you never asked me to do anything."

He made a face. He always makes that damn face. "You're being petulant and passive aggressive. But whatever. I'll do my laundry."

Then he stormed off to work.

Of course, I feel guilty now. Perhaps I should go upstairs and do his laundry. But maybe he should see everything I do for him. Because there is no fucking way that he appreciates what I do for him. It's all about him. It's ALWAYS all about him.

And maybe, just this once, it could be about me. Maybe it NEEDS to be about me.

And maybe if he leaves, that would be okay. I can't keep doing whatever he needs to make him happy.

Sometimes, I've got to just be me, and let the chips fall where they may.