Well okay I shouldn’t have done it, but I did and now it’s too late, so oh well.
I’ve been If You Give a Mouse a Cookie-ing myself with housework for the past week. I guess I just noticed how fucking trashed the house is. Plus, when you and a filthy hoarder OCD packrat share a house, and you work twice as much as the lazy/messy one, there’s only SO much that can be done.
I know most people wouldn’t get it, but I honestly have to talk myself out of cleaning with all of my spare time. Like when I got serious about writing my book, like last winter, I had to talk myself out of changing the sheets and cleaning the bathroom every week, because that’s like an hour of weekend time right there. It’s not that I enjoy cleaning, I mean it hurts your back and dries your hands out and breaks your nails, but I like take an extreme amont of joy in being in a clean environment. It’s my Grandma’s fault. Her apartment was always like…..surgically clean….even the carpet was softer….and W…dude….like whatever gross symptom of chronic depression you can think of, that guy has, including the being a disgusting slob who chews tobacco and orders his eight year old daughter to clean up the mess “her” cat made when his long-standing spit cup is knocked over – he was the “family” cat at any other time. That my mother allowed such a thing in our house now literally sickens me. That she allowed a lot of things sickens me. But that’s not what I’m about right now.
So I’ve been cleaning, and in that process, I’ve had to come to terms with the idea that my husband puts the SIMPLEST tasks off, just because, he can put them off and it “feels like chaos” if he attempts to clean up after himself. Like seriously his hoarding and his messiness are things that 100% if I could change about him I would. I know you’re not supposed to want to change your partners, but HOLY FUCK would I be happy if I didn’t have to spend so much time cleaning up after both of us.
WHICH LEADS ME TO, the bad thing I did.
I knew it was wrong when I did it. But alas, we can’t always stop ourselves, can we?
We have a strict “don’t read each other’s writing unless the other person specifically says to” rule. Let me tell you, hard fought was this rule. There was a point where I saw my husband’s eyes move from looking at me, to reading the screen behind me, and he KNOWS how angry that makes me, because my family did it all the time, because privacy doesn’t matter when you don’t count as a fucking person, and it was just another level of their invasion, ANYWAY. So I get mad at him for reading a blog I’m writing and he STORMS down the hallway, yelling after me about my “precious fucking privacy.” You know what I JUST realized like two months ago? I actually learned it from N. Which I do NOT like admitting when I learned something, though it happens all the fucking time, because idk, I guess it conveys superiority. Because in the world I live in intelligence matters more than anything. But no one else lives here, I get it, anyway. So N said something along the lines of I shouldn’t concern myself that I’m talking shit about him if I blog about him (only to not use his name…which…why in the fuck would I….on here….where I give people an initial or a fake name…but anyway) because writing was “my space” to do what I wanted in.
WHY hadn’t that occured to me?
Then it takes like….20 seconds of thinking about it to realize why, among everything else, I wouldn’t be so sure I had the right to my own space, in any way. I’m quite certain I am as I am because I had no other option. Jesus Cassie, derail much? Anyway
So I found something my husband has written, it’s on a piece of white scratch pad paper, and it could be anywhere from 1 week to several months old. And, I read it. In part because I was attempting to tidy up our bedroom and I was seeing if it had something that no longer mattered written on it and could be thrown out. If my husband wasn’t so fucking psycho about something “important” he wrote on a receipt being thrown out, I wouldn’t have to do this. There’s 10 years of resentment coming your way, so hold onto your hats.
So, I will tell you what it says, what I can make out of it, he has HORRIBLE handwriting, so there will be parts I can only wonder about. I am certain this is about me.
-Wait for something to not be done perfectly
-Frame it in the worst light
-Get really angry
-Refuse to believe the other person no matter what they say
-You know I love sparing so you don’t want me to enjoy it
-Just like the night I went to go out with K (this happened last November I think)
-Just like Grandpa’s funeral [this next part is hard to make out, but it looks like “leading that item in the by” and that’s not a sentence…so…..] (this happened last May)
This is shit UKW does”
Well, I’m sure UKW is you know who, which is me, because this is definitley me.
In part, I guess it’s good he’s venting, and it’s not like writing is a bad way to do that, and I guess this is my fault for reading it…but…the way he is, with holding back rage until it’s SO out of control he just FREAKS. THE. FUCK. OUT. yeah. Gonna have to deal with this one as artfully as only someone as emotionally abused as myself could. Oh lucky me. Anyway.
So the “wait until something’s not done perfectly” UH, no, I refute that one. What I think he’s referring to is when he does one of the minor things he does around the house, but even then he fucking half-asses it. Like, wow, you did the dishes…oh look you left some of them….you made the bed, but then you took a nap in it, so it doesn’t matter. Things of this nature. He has NO idea, or if he knows it then he doesn’t appreciate, that our work ratio at home is 100:20, at best. He thinks because he does minor shit, and isn’t as bad as he once was, that that makes up for the fact that I’ve been the free maid service for a decade. It’s like he’s not lazy…but he is. Like I do believe he has every INTENTION of doing a lot, that he wants to help out, he’s not like W who was like…infantile and mean-spirited in a very weird/blatant way about EVER having to do anything that constituted work/effort. Pathologically lazy. I’ve been over this, but it still fucking fascinates me that a grown man would act this way. Of course there’s my idiot mother, enabling everything, thinking “he would change.” So goddamn stupid. Anyway. So I fucking HATE lazy people, lets face it, especially lazy men. Like when I was with R, that was one of the HUGE things that put me off about him. Like when I was with him all he did was sleep and get plastered and play video games, mostly league of legends. Although when he scraped together enough money from part time jobs he didn’t keep for long, instead of paying me back for bailing him out of jail, he bought a PS4…so he was playing that a lot right at the end. That was always SO something my second boyfriend (Dan) would have done, and I hated how much R reminded me of Dan in a HORRIBLE way, because that guy kind of sucked. HOLY shit, just realized that 8 months is how long I can put up with someone who’s shit garbage before things just fucking end.
So yeah, that first part stems from all of that.
The frame it in the worst possible light part. IDK, I guess sometimes I find it hard to believe that someone can be SO careless and inconsiderate, I guess sometimes, given the environment I was brought up in, I assume people are fucking rotten. What can I say? I try to not do this, though because it’s shitty to do that, to just automatically assume someone has the worst intentions possible. I do get that.
Then the “refuse to believe the other person” part. Well. IDK. I guess I would need to know what he specifically was talking about. Because yes, sure, I have some trust issues with some shit. Go figure.
The doesn’t want me to enjoy sparing? I DO NOT GET IT. I can promise you this, internet strangers who read my blog, I have NEVER thought that I needed to somehow ruin going to sparing or muy thai or kickboxing or whatever the hell it is this time for him. Like, it’s a good thing to go do, and like…really….who’s telling their spouse to NOT work out? Like…really? I don’t know what he’s referring to. THOUGH, there are times, when I feel like the only thing he cares about or devotes any energy or time to, besides working about 30 hours a week is working out. If he’s not going to one of two gyms he’s running a crazy number of miles at a time outside, or lifting weights in the garage. This is all well and good. I bought him those weights. I buy him martial arts gear for holidays/birthdays all the time. It’s just ANNOYING as fuck when I have to do everything by myself because whenever we’re alone together, he’s sleeping. If he is awake he’s at the gym or working out or he’s complaining about how tired he is, or how he doesn’t feel well in some way.
I’m REALLY trying to get him to go to a doctor and a therapist. Like I cannot be that for him. I have no desire to be. I’m his spouse. Different. Different roles. I feel like I needed to have this fucking talk with my mother and I never did, so this shit isn’t happening to me again, I can tell you that much.
So the only thing I can think is that in one of the times I expressed annoyance/dismay over his ability to ALWAYS have the energy to go the gym/work out, but when it come to ANYTHING else, that’s a fucking no go.
SO he might have mistaken that for me not wanting him to enjoy sparing. but that’s totally inaccurate. Why would I not want him to enjoy it? If I ever expressed displeasure at his leaving me alone to go to the gym, it was always meant in a joking-oh-don’t-leave-me sort of way, not a serious I’m actually upset at you sort of way. I don’t get it. So I call bullshit on that one. He’s mistaking my being upset over something else over his “enjoying sparing” which is HIM assuming the worst of me….isn’t it?
The “going out with K” thing – that pushses this note to within that last two months…which is kind of frightening….. Yeah that’s his coworker whom he’s had plans with only for them to fall through four times now. This was a weeknight she wanted he and I to meet her and her boyfriend at a hookah bar in a town like 20 minutes away. I don’t go out on weekdays. I get up at 5:30 on a late morning. It’s not happening. But he was going to go. And I said something, along the lines of, Oh of course, you’re ditching me. If I remember correctly, this was said in a joking way. I didn’t mind if he went out with her, I really don’t care if he fucks her. I wouldn’t recommend it because I cannot see her boyfriend being the open sort, and she’s young, and they work together. Unwise. But again, if it happened, like whatever, we both fuck around and all. NOT THAT I HAVE RECENTLY. Sorry. Still super pissed. Well not pissed as much as a WHOLE other blog I need to write but I found this fucking gem while I was cleaning today and like NEEDED to write a blog about it. But then my husband got really defensive and upset that I’d said that, and was like “Why would you say that to me?” In the most injured way possible, and I was like, I was just kidding, I don’t care if you go. Then he had to be like, I’m not going to enjoy myself now, knowing that you’re at home upset that I’m out.
IS THAT NOT BEING EMOTIONALLY CONTROLLING?
Okay, I could have not said what I said, but it wasn’t THAT bad. And I didn’t say it that meanly, and I told him more than once to go (even though we also really didn’t have the $, because WE NEVER DO).
So. IDK I have a few arguments I’d like to make on my behalf regarding that bullet point in his list of my frequent grievances that he was DUMB enough to leave where I could find. I mean, start a blog, dude. Keep notes on your phone. I don’t go through his notes. I stopped going through his texts. I mean as long as he doesn’t give me an STD from someone else I really don’t care what the fuck happens. Also, if he got someone else pregnant I would be REALLY angry about the financial complications, and I would fucking divorce him if she had the kid because I get that that’s not a choice that would involve me, but it’s my choice to not be a fucking stepmother when I don’t have kids of my own. Yeah no I know in this moment that I would NOT be a big enough person to love that kid. I’m no Oleanna in Half of a Yellow Sun (which is a DOPE book, if you haven’t read it). So yeah HUGE tangent because marijuana but as long as those two things don’t happen, the rest is fine.
It just worries me when he does shit like that.
To ME, it feels like he’s trying to condition me to NOT say anything, to never speak my mind because HE might have to get emotional about it. Juuuuust like his mother. See, he has A LOT of her charactertistics, and a lot of them aren’t great. Like the hyper sensitivity, the hyper defensiveness, the just deeply emotional way they go about every day activities. Wow, I’m hearing it for the first time, they aren’t German enough. They don’t remind me of my Grandma’s way of living life enough. I mean she has the food=love thing down, but that’s about it.
But that’s crazy right?
Maybe I’m just a cunt?
Like you get that would be easier? Like the worse option is always easier, isn’t it?
Or it is worse that he’s trying to do that? I say this one isn’t as bad because I can fucking handle it.
Do you really think I can be mentally manipulated or outsmarted by ANYONE?
It’s not me bragging, not when you realize how I fucking earned these stripes. It’s not fair to put a kid through certain shit. But then you tell them it’s all their fault and a new, strange, layer gets added on top that blurs their ability to connect, even with those whom they SHOULD have found a kindred comiseration with.
Sometimes I DO wonder what’s reality and what’s coping mechanism. I think I still have a pretty firm grasp on it.
I told you before, I’ll say it again I’m sure, I’m the definition of an outcast. There’s no one actual place I fit in, EVEN when I’m amongst a group I should have a great deal in common with. I’ve felt that way EVERYWHERE I’ve ever gone, in every group I’ve ever been in, for my entire life.
I know I sound like a dysfunctional teenager, but it’s the fucking truth. And I can assure you it’s the truth, I think, by reminding you that it’s the last thing I want to be the case.
I feel like if someone feels truly unique all they really want is to find someone like themselves. Like those who strive to be one of a kind don’t actually fucking get what that feels like.
Or I’m just self aggrandizing. I don’t know. The only thing I know for certain is I have a frightening amount of student loan debt. Ah, how anchoring you are, thing I will never pay off.
So again, I’m not asking him to not enjoy himself at either of those things.
And then the Grandpa’s funeral part. Okay, his Grandpa died on I think April 28th, the funeral was May 2nd. We drove down and stayed at a hotel near the funeral site. I drove us. We got there around 2am, slept until 8 then had to get ready. I Slept TERRIBLY. We had to get a double bed room, so it was like a full and we’re used to sharing a king sized bed and the reason we bought this size bed was because we NEED that much space. I woke up about once an hour, because my husband was infringing on my space in a huge way. If you shake him, while he’s sleeping, he’ll eventually move off of you, but having to do that SO much kind of ruined any chance at rest.
We were about to leave the hotel room for the day and I said, and I quote, “So not into this entire day of family time.”
I mean. I didn’t say I was glad his grandfather was dead. I missed him at the reunion this year, I missed his Christmas card, I loved his Grandpa, that’s not what I was about, I GUESS I was just complaining, because I was tired, and it was going to be a LONG day ahead of us, and then a long drive home, and then work the next day because this was the middle of the fucking week. Then, I told him he needed to comb his hair, which he did, it looked ridiculous that he was in a nice suit but obviously hadn’t bothered to comb his hair after washing it and lettitng it air dry. I remember the look he gave me when I said that, I realized there was trouble coming. But we had to go. So we’re leaving the hotel, and he is walking far ahead of me, he goes to use an exit that isn’t as near to our car as a different exit, so I say, “We’re parked by this door,”
And THAT was what did it, ladies and gentlemen.
Suddenly, instead of walking ahead of me, he’s running ahead of me. He’s out the door, he’s throwing out suitcase on the ground and repeatedly punching the brick wall of the building. He glares back at me, and like……idk…..him….THAT irrationally angry….in a suit…..when we’re about to be forced to spend a TON of time around family (HIS family) acting normal…..reminded me WAY too much of our wedding night/morning after. Only this time, he couldn’t blame his behavior on booze. This was RIGHT before he started drinking again. Like a few days. Uh oh I’m hearing it.
THAT was the horrible, unreal behavior on my part at his Grandpa’s funeral. LIKE REALLY.
NO, that one I have deep arguements on as well.
I hate to say this
But I feel like he took the death of his 98 year old Grandpa a little too hard
No disrespet to the man, he was great, and he raised great kids, who had great kids, and he was a fucking WW2 veteran, that’s so cool, like my Grandpa who I only remember in a hospital bed and maybe once in a nursing home but my mom would take me along and make me spend the time by myself so she could be alone with her dad. Strange to consider SHE knows what it’s like to love your dad. Strange for me to think of that bond existing, at all, I’m afraid.
But like, your grandparent living to 98 shouldn’t be your excuse for going off of the deep end and starting drinking again, but that’s what he said.
Now, especially lately, he’s been drinking way too much. Of course I get it’s hard to not. Really I do. Somehow, I managed to replace beer with red bull, at least on the weekends. On the weekdays its like eh, do I want to kind of feel like shit tomorrow? Plus, calories and all. Anyway.
I’m just kind of sick of his drunken rants.
His surprise birthday thing is next Friday, that’s the dinner with friends, then he and I have a night together the next night. Thanks to his parents Christmas money, I barely have enough for all of that. Hooray. I’m going to warn him not to ruin the night by drinking too much. It could easily happen given how he’s been lately.
But when he’s drunk he just goes ON about how nothing is his fault and he’s been so cheated in so many ways in life. which goes to show no matter what you have you can’t help but compare yourself to people who have more, I guess?
I do ALL that I can to NOT compare myself to other people. And holy shit does it make you feel better. I’m still lonely af, it doesn’t really help with that, unfortunately, but still.
I took a weirdly long nap from 7pm-2am and now I don’t know how to act. I made coffee, because that seemed like the right thing to do. And my husband fell asleep shortly after I got up so I was like, time to write a blog about his list of my wrongdoings. And also of course, it’s not THAT old of a list. It was written roughly about the same time as my most recent sexual disappointment (which just hit the 2 month mark, NOT that I would notice that). Maybe that’s why he wrote it.
My one defense in all of this is to act depressed. Like my mom would. See my husband can’t handle that, like he can’t be mean about anything if I go quiet/depressive. And like…BOY did I see a TON of that behavior throughout my first 18 years. So. Watch out anyone trying to top me there. But, it’s not my true nature. It’s a defense mechanism, for certain but I’m naturally like an energetic/enthusiastic person, there are just so few people worth being that way around. I don’t want to feel that way, I just do. It’s based on intelligence and compatability and and my personal assessment of someone’s worth, so you can’t really tell me I’m being racist or sexist or I only assign worth to people bassed on how much I’d like to fuck them or whatever terrible thing, because it’s all subjective af.
So in a way my husband’s note makes me want to argue a few things, but I won’t of course because I know I shouldn’t have read it, but spilled milk am I right?
It also makes me sad that I upset him so much. The angry all the times part and the worst possible light and the not believing anything he says….those are all definitely true….so….there’s that.
I mean I feel like I’ve been angry since day one because where I come from if you didn’t have some fight in ya you weren’t gon’ make it. I said that in a weird accent in my head and I don’t know why. Anyway. Never give up the fight in you. Not like the war within, but like never stop being one of the dogs that the handlers are like “That one has some fight in her.” I don’t know why I used that simile but I did. R was rude to me once about confusing similie and metaphor (yeah I know) and I never forgave him for it. That was another thing about him, he like, jumped at any opportunity to be the asshole, especially while drunk…so ALL the time…..
So I guess I should really work on not being such a bitch. I should be able to channel that rage into sullen silence like I did as a child. It’s not like it’s hard.
You know what I realized? That sometimes, the reasons I’m like so devastated over a guy, it doesn’t totally just hinge on the guy himself, even if he was great, or all right.
You know that guy Paul? I wrote a long blog about him. I’ll link it in the comments when I’m on my phone because somehow I find that version of WordPress easier to use.
So Paul was cool and all, but really, for as much as we interacted, and how conflicted I was because I was still into my ex-boyfriend (my first boyfriend ever, Nick) as well as being into Paul, I was WAY too upset when he told me we couldn’t hang out anymore because he started dating a long time friend of his. Which, like now that I’m older I get it, but he should’ve known better than to involve himself at all with an 18 year old, even one as mature as I was (which I was, and I lived on my own and went to the same college as him, so it’s not like he was a creeper, AT ALL, let’s establish that, he was 21, for reference).
But what really upset me was that Paul me realize that I deserved someone who did what he did, who appreciated me and was intrigued by me for who I was as a person. It was DEFINITELY the first time that had happened to me. Before, the only interest was from guys who were attracted to me, who it was nearly impossible to talk to. Plus I was socially radioactive in high school so that’s going to have an influence. I remember once R was like, “You didn’t have dudes into you in high school? Did you not have your titties back then?” He was obsessed, that’s for sure. I was like, “No, I did.” He was like, “Oh were you weird?” Again, asshole. But that was just him, I can’t say he ever didn’t act like that. I just was so attracted at first none of that mattered.
So the missed chance to date Paul was one thing, but realizing that I had been introduced to a new standard was tough. It’s already a selective enough process, but no, let’s add ONE more filter.
That’s what N did.
That would explain why I was so fucking upset. There’s a lot of blogs I hid dedicated to how annoyed I was at first.
Now it’s like…well….logically speaking, Cassie, what the sweet fuck did you want to happen? The two of you to start fucking on a regular-ish basis? Why? So you can get closer and closer and develop actual feelings for each other? Is this whole process really done with the HOPE that you’ll just fizzle out and get bored of each other and one of you rips the band-aid off and you both go your separate ways? Is that why the “poly” life (I hate the fucking terminology) is so appealing to us dark people? Because you kind of hope once the dopamine wears off you separate and at most hook up once in a great awhile after texting at 1am. Maybe, that’s with a really good one and let’s face it, most aren’t that. Unlike with actual love/dating where you hope it lasts forever. At least I do. Each to their own.
So it’s like, what did I want to happen? How could it have ended well, no matter the outcome? It’s just…kind of….irritatingly misleading…..*narrowed eyes emoji*…..to SAY one thing, then like five hours later just totally backtrack. I mean free will and all but HOLY SHIT REALLY?! Sorry. I’m so not mad. What’s terrible is I for once can’t blame booze. I haven’t drank since Christmas. But then I keep being like “Have a red bull, you deserve it.” Mmm caffeine, socially acceptable chemical dependence. I love it.
So I guess what REALLY upset me about N was it made me realize what I actually want in my “boyfriend.” Which is what I would be looking for. I don’t want some rando DOM creepo from Fetlife to tie me to his bed and fuck me. I mean as fun as that sounds, I still don’t want to do that because you just feel gross after. I mean I do. Each to their own. I want what I had with R, but with someone who is a functional adult, not a raging alcoholic, and someone with their own full life who makes occasional time for me, not….the opposite which is what I had with R. But he and I got along SO well, and it was always easy just to sit around and talk with him. I have that sort of relationship with my best friend as well, and to an extent, with my three friends back home, the ones whom I’ve lost, to varying degrees, to the cult of mommy. N claimed he does not have this connection with people usually and it freaked him out when it happened with me and made him rethink the whole us having sex thing. I could tell something was off, even when we were still around his friends that night.
But still, that night, at least the first half of it, was what I want. With the sort of person I want it with. Great. That’s SUCH A SIMPLE COMBINATION OF THINGS TO FIND.
So it makes you sadder than it should because it gives you new standards. And I don’t heavily apply standards to others because I feel like garbage about myself. I don’t. I just have to assure you I guess because that doesn’t seem like something one can prove. I know people who are like that, and they annoy me. They’re always judgmental too. I mean it comes with the territory. Anyway.
But now I’m like….how the fuck do I find THAT in a random stranger? Sigh. Maybe if I make it “big” enough as an author, someone will stalk through my Twitter and read this and be like, OMG it’s me.
I mean I wrote a whole “He’s got to be out there somewhere” blog. I mean, he does. It’s not a question, it’s a matter of somehow finding him.
Of course, I’m NOT missing the notion that this would never be as organic as fucking around with someone from grad school. I had a great time doing that once before, it could happen again. But there were only three guys I’d even consider in grad school, R is definitely out of the equation (as a been there/done that, haaa, but to be fair if I was rating this guy purely on sex, 9/10, for sure) and N is as well for SADLY different reasons, and that leaves A. And I have no idea if A is even in this sort of marraige but I freaking doubt it. Which is sad to say because I am definitely hotter than his wife. And my husband is super buff (was I not just bitching about that 2000 words ago?) so maybe she’d be done for a different dick than A’s. Plus super in shape guys are good at fucking because it’s like any other cardio in a lot of ways. IDK everyone is SO different these days. I think it was rare random coincidence that another married couple like N and his wife came into our lives (but not in the fun way) as they did. It was cool though, because things are SO MUCH BETTER when a couple can just admit they’re attracted to other people, maybe even fuck them. So it was nice seeing it work for others. For me, it’s a matter of not knowing anyone good enough. See the point I hope I’ve been making.
So my only other “organic” fuck that I can think of (why do I call them that? whatever) is the Professor. I forget what name I gave him but he’s the only professor out of all of my undergrad and grad classes whom I would actually do this with. There were some others who were hotter, I’ll say that, but none of them are him. I adored his classes. He’s genuinely gifted. Yeah, you can tell he just fucking soaks the female student population from his Rate My Professor.
But Yeah I may have concocted a sort of fantasy where I publish my book and it does well enough for me to mail him a copy and tbe like “Hey remember me, I took three of your classes and then asked you to write me a letter of recommendation for graduate school? Probably not, but I wrote a book and I wanted to send it to the professors who I felt made a diference in my education. Thank you.”
NOT THAT I’M PLANNING ON ACTUALLY DOING THIS.
Only I totally will, IF I achieve the first part. Well I know I’ll finish and publish the book, it’s the doing well that I need to see about.
That’s the only one I can think of.
The rest would feel fake.
Goals I guess
Well, it’s late/early so I should edit or go back to bed.