Gonna stand my ground, won’t be turned around And I’ll keep this world from draggin’ me down Gonna stand my ground and I won’t back down

8 11 2012

This day started off as a gigantic pile of shit. I had it out with Manfred before I left the house and I am pretty sure I cried all my mascara off. NOT THE LOOK.

Loving that man is hard work. It really is. And not in a bad way, but he fights me every step of the way. It’s like he doesn’t feel like he deserves it. I get that. I’ve been there. But he does. Usually. This morning, as I was leaving, he apologized for being a jerk the previous evening.

Background. He was being a jerk. We have some very different political beliefs. THAT’S OK!!! I seriously could not give two fucks who you want to vote for as long as you vote. We know what we agree and disagree on, and there are no oh no-no’s on that list. IT’S FINE. However, he’s been pouty since the election. I got home late, and we made dinner together and he was just being a dick. Whatever, I’m too tired to deal with this. I mention we need to look at our benefits, as my re-enrollment period is up on Friday. He’s currently on my plan. He mentions he may not want to be because he wants “freedom” and that tethers him to my job and the relationship.


I let it go. I’m tired. I go to bed. But I am thinking. A lot.

We’ve known each other for half of our lives. We’ve been together nearly three years. We live together. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT YOU WANT YET???

So when he apologizes this morning, I tell him he hurt my feelings and I am concerned about his lack of faith in us. That opens the floodgates and we kind of went at it. Maybe he can’t see me as the mother of his kids blah blah blah. Maybe I don’t want to have his babies blah blah blah. Maybe his friend should bring the truck over and pick up my shit. Maybe he should. MAYBE I DON’T GIVE TWO FUCKS. MAYBE THE COMMON DENOMINATOR IN ALL OF YOUR FAILED RELATIONSHIPS IS YOU.

Hmm. Maybe it is. Maybe I am being a jerk now, too. So he apologizes again, a hug and a kiss, and now my ass is late to work.

Here’s the thing. I love this man. Unconditionally. I don’t know if he feels the same. I feel like with him, there are conditions. And I don’t know what the fuck they are. I know the things he struggles with and worries about. I have stood by him through thick and thin. But I will not be disrespected and I will not have my time wasted. I’ve done that. I’m over that. I’m not afraid to start over. I’m not afraid to be alone. I think he is. So if he wants to lock this down, he’d better pull his head out of his ass real quick. I’m done playing house. I’m done waiting. Get your shit together, son.

Dear boyfriend,

1 10 2010

I am still very upset and hurt about last night.

I am too stubborn to actually speak to you, so I’m sharing my thoughts here, where you can’t read them. I’m brilliant, I know.

You apparently don’t and that’s part of the problem.

I don’t plan on talking to you until I get an apology. I don’t actually foresee this happening, so I’m not holding my breath, don’t worry.

You are not my father. I have two of those already. I do not need your approval on how I live my life. We don’t technically live together, we don’t share financial responsibility of anything, so I fail to see how MY finances are any of YOUR business.

I fucked up. We all know this. I have taken GIANT leaps and bounds to correct said fuck ups. I am TRYING. Not that you see, or appreciate that fact. It’s all “try harder” and “not good enough”. I understand the situation I am facing better than anyone. It is mine. I own my mistakes. I own my debt. How I manage it is really none of your concern. What I spend my money on is also none of your concern. If you are concerned with my spending, maybe you should stop asking me to take you out to dinner, or making me buy you a $5.25 hot dog at the Reds game. Or maybe, you could come to MY house so I don’t spend $60 in a week on gas.

Just thoughts.

I am doing the only thing I can to keep my head above water. None of your solutions are realistic or feasible. I don’t appreciate you judging me or talking to me like I’m an idiot. I understand it’s not an ideal situation. This is where I am, however. I cannot change it. I cannot do anything additional to what I am doing. I am hoping that as of March, things will get better. You need to listen when I talk.

You attacked me last night. You attacked my intelligence and my choices. I don’t always make the right decisions, but it is my life and they are my decisions to make. As I suggested to you last night, you are more than welcome to take over and manage my life for me if you feel you can do better.

We don’t have to agree. And clearly, we do not in this situation.

I don’t think you understand my predicament. I bring in x amount of dollars each month. ┬áNearly all of that goes to pay for things I cannot give up. I didn’t dare tell you that I paid my mother’s cell phone bill and I’m not going to mention that she owes me this month. She is losing her job and may lose the house. I’m not going to ask her for $75.

Also, thank you for your very helpful shrug and “I dunno” when you suggested she sell the house and move in with her fiance, and I questioned where would I live if she did such a thing. Considering I live with you, informally, I assumed that you would perhaps offer to make it official. Not that I care either way, but the fact that you didn’t really stung.

I love you very much, but if you’re going to talk to me in a condescending way and generally act like a self righteous dickface, I’m not sure that I’ll be staying there, informally or not, much longer. This is not a threat, it is a statement of fact. I am done bending over backwards to make a man happy. You see where it got me the last time.

No, don’t even go there. I am not “comparing” you to him. And for fucks sake. I barely mention him in your presence, and when I do I NEVER say his name. Yet, I have to hear about your ex CONSTANTLY. So really, enough.

I know I was very cold and distant this morning. I will continue to be so until I hear “I’m sorry” pass your lips. You don’t have to be sorry for your opinion. You are entitled to think I’m an idiot. I’m inclined to agree, most times. But you are not entitled to tell me how to live my life.

And while we’re on the subject of things you have done to provoke my anger, and again, you actually saw it for the first time last night. I hope it scared you. I still do ┬ánot find it funny when you talk about other girls. I will never find it funny. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this. You know exactly why I don’t think it’s funny or a joking manner. Yet you continue to make jokes about other women. I know that I don’t share things with you that I should. It’s mostly because you don’t listen and you definitely do not understand. I tried to talk to you about my self esteem and how it’s really slipping away from me right now. I feel horrible about myself physically. I haven’t hated myself this much since right after the break up. Which was caused by my boyfriend cheating on me with another, skinny, woman. So please, I am asking you one last time, do not joke about fucking other women. It will never, ever be funny to me. It hurts me in a way I clearly cannot get you to understand.

Oh, and it would be nice if you said “I love you” once in awhile. I can probably count on one hand the number of times you’ve said it in the past few months. I’d like to think that you do love me. But you don’t exactly show it well when you’re telling me how awful I am at running my life and how you’re available to my friend who is trying to figure out her sexuality. I am offended by both of those thoughts. I try incredibly hard to be patient with you. I give you a wide berth due to the situation you’re facing. I try to let things go and not make a big deal out of little things. Everyone has a limit. You have launched yourself across mine. Tread very carefully. I am tired, and I don’t take kindly to your brand of fuckery. I will punch you in the face.

Now, seeing as you are not actually reading this, my friends are, let me say this…

You also are not welcome to judge me or tell me what I need to do or how I should handle this. I am a grown up. I will do what feels right for me. It may not be what you would do, but I am not you. I appreciate your love and concern as always, but I am fine. I am venting. I am pissed off. This is only my side of the story. So please, for the love of all that is holy, don’t make me get mad at you for the same reason I am mad at him.

I think I might explode.

16 06 2010

There is no way to just ease into this one. I am angry. I am frustrated. I am over a lot of people. I. Am. Done. Read the rest of this entry »

This is a time in my life where everything is falling apart, but at the same time it’s all coming together.

28 05 2010

I have a lot to say this morning. Please bear with me. Read the rest of this entry »

No words. Just angry.

10 05 2010

I may have broken my fucking ankle. Or I guess, to be more specific, I may have chipped the bone on my ankle. Read the rest of this entry »

Why does green tea even exist??

13 04 2010

Seriously. Gross.


And I just realized it’s caffeine free. WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT IS THE POINT??

I’m sorry, ya’ll. I am Irish as fuck. I like potatoes, Guinness and BLACK FUCKING TEA. If I can see the bottom of my mug, it ain’t strong enough. Black like my heart. THAT IS TEA. Fuck you hipsters and your faux tea. Ugh.

Wondering who pissed in my Wheaties today? Tulane. I got an email yesterday afternoon after NO COMMUNICATION AT ALL denying me. Best part? They copied all of the applicants that got turned down. CC’ed NOT BCC’ed. Classy.

I was very upset about it yesterday. I thought I was ok, and then my heart slowly started to break. I just can’t believe all that stress and work and MATH was for nothing. Le sigh. It’s not my time yet. NOLA waits another year. Now, excuse me. I have to go find some black tea with caffeine.

In the air, air, air, air.

21 03 2010

What up, fools? I’m on a PLANE! Read the rest of this entry »


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.