Clarity. At long last.
Clarity for the moment, anyway. (Hey, those drugs must be working!)
I know you’ve been reading my Twitter feed lately, in all it’s cynical, over-dramatic glory. You know what I love about Twitter? It’s that perfect outlet for your at-the-moment thoughts, the ones that haven’t yet been processed and are probably completely misunderstood and disorganized. But they are raw, and that’s reality.
Love is a complicated matter, isn’t it? Maybe it’s the people in love that are complicating things and not actually the love itself. Yes, that makes more sense now that I think about it.
These last couple of weeks have been tough. The last time I’d seen Y (my boyfriend), we’d had a rather melancholy day. We’d done far too much talking and not enough having fun (damn that overcast weather and friends who never go home!).
The week after that was pretty much normal for the most part, but at the end of that week (Thursday to Sunday) Y was volunteering at the annual Turkish festival. He was working from morning until night and I knew he had quite a lot on his plate so I gave him his space and tried to be the “good girlfriend”.
I think I succeeded that weekend, but the following week (last week) was another story. I had become overly hormonal (PMS is a bitch for me in a good month) and cranky because I’d had menstrual cramps for SEVEN days before I even got my period (TMI Alert! Oh, too late? Oops.). For a couple of days I started to worry that I was pregnant (I’M NOT!) and that happened to be during the same couple of days following the festival, when Y was particularly exhausted and quiet.
He spent these couple of days texting me minimally, and there was just something different about his messages. Plus, he’d been spending every single day since the start of the festival with that single friend Can I told you about, and I’ve been noticing that he’s not his usual considerate self when they’re together. In my hormonal state, I started to worry that something had happened between us and I started expressing my worries to him in the “ohmygawd are weeeee okkaaaayyy?” kind of way. Ugh, I hate myself for it. Even though he told me on several occasions that we were fine, he became more withdrawn and I started to panic almost obsessively.
I wasn’t expressing all of my panic to Y, but he’s a pretty intuitive guy and I know that he knew I was being a wing-nut sort-of behind his back. At the end of the week, I finally confessed that I’d been hormonal and worried I was pregnant.
And do you know what that bastard said? “Yeah that’s what I thought. No worries.”
Well shit. I was being so hormonal that he knew I was being hormonal? Damn. And here I thought I was wearing my invisibility cloak. Major fail. At least he didn’t hold it against me.
So then approaches the weekend girls night at his house and boys night at one of the guy’s houses. Y and I had just talked the weekend before about how I don’t mind him being with his friends, but I had failed to lay down any ground rules about still being considerate. I guess I figured I didn’t need to since he’s always been overly considerate…
…so when 9:30 the next morning rolled around and I woke up in Y’s bed alone, I was pretty livid. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, and hadn’t come home. When I tried to call him, I realized his phone was dead. That explains that.
The night before a couple of his friends brought up the fact that they’ve noticed a change in his personality since he started spending more time with Can. My thoughts on this were confirmed. I knew Can could be manipulative, but I also knew that Y wasn’t stupid, and that worried me.
I knew that Y had plans with Can on Sunday and that if he’d slept there he probably wouldn’t bother coming home, but as Sunday afternoon wore on and then Sunday night and Monday morning came around and his phone was still dead and he still hadn’t been home, I got worried, panicked, and then I did what every irrational panicked woman does. I got angry. Actually, I was livid.
When his phone finally started working Monday morning, I texted him and said that I was coming over that night and we needed to talk. I wasn’t going to give him a way out of it. I was going to address all of this time he’d been spending with Can, the change in his behaviour, and when he apologized I was going to make him work for it. But that night rolled around and I waited and waited for him to finish work. Finally at 11pm he asked me if I would come downtown to meet him because his boss was waiting on someone. I thought I was picking him up to go home, but as it turned out, they were in the middle of a post-festival meeting and he was just on a coffee break. Now suddenly, I was supposed to have this big important conversation in ten minutes.
I froze up, I refused to talk about what I was there to talk about, and instead of listening to what he was telling me, I got angry, he got angry, and he left.