I got an email from kaya and a comment from DK, both of which were kinda like, “Yo. Where you at, bitch?” 

I think they’re in cahoots.

(I don’t, actually, I just enjoy the word ‘cahoots’ and won’t pass up an opportunity to use it.)

I’m here.  Swear.  I just… I don’t have much to say.  And nothing irritates me more than banal daily life-updates that are uninspired and lame.  Unless you’re a spectacular writer, your boring life is, wait for it… boring.  No one wants to read that shit, so I’m not about to shovel it out.

BUT now you have to listen to the crap that I know no one really wants to read about.  Ha. You (well, okay, kaya and DK) asked for it, so on your own heads be it.

I had a 50-hour work week.  Twenty-three of those hours were all in a row. From Friday night until Saturday night. I came very close to losing my mind.

I spent part of that shift trying to convince The Man that the guys on his crew argue amongst themselves about who gets to work with him NOT because he has work skillz that ensure stress-free times on the job, but because he has a nice ass.

(The Man disagrees.)

((He’s clearly deluded.))

I slept a grand total of five hours last night, too.  I had trouble sleeping because I’m allergic to the bed in my room here at my father’s house (it was Dad’s 60th birthday Saturday!) so I was stuffed up and sniffling.  Then my friend, Itty, texted me to let me know about a trip to the hospital.  Broken elbow, in about six places, waiting to go in for surgery.  I got sick feeling all over again.  I finally fell asleep and I was up five hours later, totally unable to sleep again.

Bleh.

I did cook some kickass Indian food yesterday, though.  I wish I had a camera – I would have taken pictures and gloated endlessly.

So, let’s see.  I can attempt to talk about what you’re all here to read about.  The relationship, right?  The obvious shittiness of long-distance aside, we’re good. I’m existing in a holding pattern until the fall/winter, but I’m becoming okay with that and I’m managing to just be happy in the moment, knowing something better is coming closer with every day. (I can tell Antonio is happy with me because of his use of nicknames.  He drops them altogether when he’s not all that pleased with me. Granted, I don’t think “cuntmouth” would make most women swoon and think “he’s lovin’ me!” but it does the trick for me.)

This is Antonio’s busy season, so he’s working like CRAZY.  Plus last month his roommates were all, “Hey, buddy… So, uh, we’re moving out. Which means you have to too. Post-haste. Kthnxbai.” 

Since Antonio has precisely zero free time, looking for an apartment was simply not an option. So he moved in with a friend.  His description of the state of this friend’s bathroom disturbs me on a soul-deep level.  Two men living together terrifies me.  I’m scarred from college, I tell you.  My best friends were two hockey players and their bathroom was the sort of place where you wanted protective clothing, the kind of protective clothing that would make hazmat suits look like cute little take-‘em-or-leave-‘em lacy underthings.  So I’m imagining a nuclear waste facility at the new place.  I hope Antonio convinces him to clean it up a little.

Hahahaha! I know, I know, that’s ridiculous.  I’m trying to imagine them sitting around making a chart for bathroom-cleaning chores… Hope springs eternal, hey?

ANYWAY, he’s busy.  Which leads me to something that might actually be blog-suitable. Because you know, I hate his job. I HATE it.  I hate that it’s got seasonal component, so everyone gets laid off in the winter, including him.  That leaves Antonio without a steady income and without health insurance. Every. Single. Year.  I hate his hours, I hate that he has to travel so much, I just hate it.  He’d be so much better off – physically, financially, everything – if he did something else.  His last job, he made much more money, controlled his own hours, etc.  He just hated it and hated the East Coast and hated the city.

A couple years ago, when I had asked him if he liked his current job, wanted to keep doing it, etc. – Antonio talked about how he wanted to get out of it, find a different job, start a business, something.  But over time I realized he hasn’t gotten out of it.  I haven’t seen him try. He hasn’t talked about it. And I started thinking…

I started seeing (rather, imagining) a lack of drive, of motivation, something.  He’s injured now (his knee) and he can’t take time off, he can’t see a doctor (because his insurance takes 3 months to kick back in) and it’s just NO way to live. Especially no way to live if you’re planning on having a family, and not living and dying alone. And yet, he wasn’t doing anything about it. WHY?

So I stewed on it for a while. 

I waited.

I worried.

I wondered why he didn’t mention wanting out when I asked about his knee.

I wondered where his sense of purpose had gone.

I tried to figure out why he stopped caring about moving forward.

It was crushing.

And, eventually, as a last-ditch effort, I asked. (Backwards, I know, right?)

And he was all, “Yeah, I totally agree with you, which is why I’ve been pursuing other options.  I’m hoping this will be my last year in this industry. I’ll talk to you about it more in depth on the phone.”

Just like that. No big deal.

And it hit me, once again, Antonio is just NOT a sharing-and-caring kinda guy, not by default. It’s not that he wanted to hide it from me, it’s not that he didn’t think I should know.  It’s not that he lost his drive or motivation, it’s not that he changed his mind about getting out of the business he’s in and moving on. He’s been on it.

He just didn’t see the need to TELL me.  I figured if and when he had this brainwave or started looking for a new job, he’d SHARE with me.  And the fact that he hadn’t talked to me about it meant he was doing nothing.  So I stayed quiet because I didn’t want to come across as bitchy or pushy… 

I guess, for some reason, I’m STILL not used to having anyone close to me not share major thoughts or feelings or life plans, never mind a partner being all quiet about it.  I sincerely wish Antonio would keep me more in the loop because I’m prone to feeling isolated, ignored, unwanted, unimportant, and on the verge of being cast aside.  His “Actually, this man IS an island” type lifestyle and mentality and ability sure as shit doesn’t help me feel all secure and involved in my relationship, yanno?

I think I’m on a need-to-know basis, and he and I differ on what defines “need” but since he’s in charge, his definition reigns supreme.

But… As much as I think he could have just told me, I should have just asked. 

A long while back, I was having trouble understanding why Antonio wasn’t reading my moods.  Why he couldn’t tell when I needed sympathy vs. when I need a solution.  I became really turbulent, and feeling (as usual) isolated, ignored, unwanted, unimportant, and on the verge of being cast aside. Eventually, I spilled everything out in a torrent of tears and emotions.

And in the end, it was all pointless on my end.  He not in the business of reading my mind.  And when I have a problem, he wants to give me a solution. To him, that’s the best thing he can do for me – FIX my problems.  And… He’s right, it is. But sometimes I need attention, sympathy, a shoulder to cry on…

Those horrible back and forth, “I’m running but I want you to chase me!” and “Leave me alone means I need you!” and “I’ll be miserable so you can convince me how wonderful I am and how much you want me”  GAMES women play to feel wanted are not going to cut it here. 

Not in this relationship. 

Nope.

Trust me, I’ve tried. And as all women do, I’ve SO deeply felt it was genuine, that the melodrama was real and only professions of undying love and commitment from him could make us okay.  But of course that was bullshit. It was an attempt to fabricate ups and downs, to suffer the lows so you can feel exalted by the highs.  It is, plain and simple, drug-seeking behavior.  I won’t even try to pretend otherwise, no matter how real it felt at the time.  And over time, that behavior wears on things, on people, on relationships.  It rots them.

Luckily, Antonio is a smart man, and not one to be manipulated.  He doesn’t fall for it, and he doesn’t let me fall for my own drama either.  Thank fuck for that.

Now, to be clear, he has no problem comforting me, loving me, letting me be clingy,  and all that good stuff.  He has no problem showing me that he cares, that he wants me around, that he loves me.  And he doesn’t hesitate to show it when HE wants to, but there might be times *I* want him to. And I have to just say so, not try to play games, no matter how subconscious, to get him to do it.  That’s manipulative, and that’s a no-go. 

So I say, “I need you.” And as soon as is feasible, I’ll have his attention.  Simple as.  I just need to ask.

So… It’s kind of the same with this job thing.  I sat here and made it worse in my head.  I decided all kinds of things. I decided he was just on track to burn himself out, to give up and give in, even though that’s not like him. I worried about what everything meant, in the short term and the big picture.

And it was stupid.  I should have just asked. 

(Or, you know, he could have just kept me in the loop… Heh, sorry, I couldn’t resist.)