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Ok. I feel like anytime I talk about this I sound whiney.
My boyfriend took a new job, moved to a new town, and has now closed on his very own home. The last time he took any interest in me was probably before he moved. See? Super freak whiney.
When we discussed his move it was all roses and how much we'll freaking miss each other. The vague promises that he'll try to get me to move with him, like he couldn't bare to be apart. He seems to be doing JUST FINE. In fact he tells me all about every detail of his life. I need not speak, or interject any ideas. He's got it ALL covered. Even when he doesn't.
I'm extremely frustrated. I remember this from the EX, and saying that or making comparisons isn't fair. But still, this feeling of sinking back into the farthest recess of my body so I don't claw the hell out of the Principal or slipping into a warm bath of numbness whenever he disregards what comes out of my mouth is getting old. I never thought my self-esteem was low, just made me humble. However, the more I've discussed things with friends, and of course my mother thedoomsday prophet, I think I have been putting myself down too much for the Principal's sake.
Example: At dinner with Julie and Kelly I talked about how the Principal never asks about my week or what I've been up to when we talk on the phone. We only discuss the stress of his transition.
"I know my life isn't super exciting or anything-"
"What?! YOU are exciting AND interesting!" Julie slammed her teensy little hands on the table.
I shrugged, but it made me realize I was making myself less so he could be more. If my life was less interesting then what he was going through there would be a reason we didn't discuss it. I was making excuses.
Example: At a furniture store we got to talking to a sales lady. The Principal was preening about working at the mine (the town gets a hard-on when they hear the mine is re-opening) and the sales lady was asking twenty questions. The Principal made me sound as if I was refusing to move to this bustling city for silly reasons. Like the fact that I own a house.
In response I said "I have a job in Phoenix." The sales lady nodded in understanding and asked what I did. "I answer phones."
The light went out of her face as if to say "You couldn't leave that behind to move with the man you love?" The Principal was smirking and making comments so it seemed he was after me constantly to come with him. I breathed in deeply and tried to become a shadow.
When I told my lovely mother about the above example she tried to slap me. "Why did you say it like that?"
"Like what?" I was confused.
"You said just 'answer phones"! You were putting yourself down!"
"Uh, that's not putting myself down. My job description is answering phones, mom."
"But you don't have to say it like that." It was a ridiculous conversation which continued at this vein for a minimum of ten minutes until my lovely mother threw her hands up and pretended she conceded my point in a tone that let me know she really didn't.
I have been trying to figure out how to talk about this with the Principal and there seems to be no safe route. We are destined to fight about this. How do you explain you're not getting enough affection? Shouldn't it come naturally?
I worried about this as I drove to New Mexico to help him move into his house. I drove for 5 hours, with 2 dogs, and didn't even get a "How was the drive" or "I'm so happy to see you". If I did, they were in jest. I was expected to be there. The end.
We chatted, it was strained, then we went to bed. First night in his very first house. He rolled over and fell asleep. I lay awake shivering in the cold, (I'm not trying to be melodramatic, the furnace wasn't reaching the room we slept in), wondering why the Principal didn't want to even lay near me.
In the morning it was get up and get ready. No kissing, no holding each other. No nothing. Dissatisfied I took a shower and sat outside with the dogs. Wishing it was beer:thirthy.
Back and forth we moved his stuff from storage to house. I commented on paint colors and the look I received was scathing. A gray wall? Was I insane? I crawled back into my own little world and pretended it was okay. It is a far more lonely world when you share space with aperson who acts like you shouldn't really be there.
We went to bed.
We woke up. He acted like he wanted to have sex, asked if I had any protection, I rolled over and told him to go to hell. He just moved in, wasn't prepared for that. Had other things on his mind. Uhhh... You knew your girlfriend was driving 5 fucking hours to help you move and it never crossed your mind to have sex with her? Thanks.
I rolled over, got up and took a shower. Less than an hour later I was on my way back to AZ (5 hours again) so I could spend 3 hours cleaning offices and drive another 40 minutes home to do laundry and go back to work the following day. There was no text to see if I made it home safely. I went about my week with the impression I may have made up the very idea of the Principal.
Perhaps being single is the best way to go.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
Waiting it out
Last week I texted the Principal that I missed him. We are, after all, 5 hours away from one another and I did miss him. His response: he'd be back in Phoenix in 48 hours. Like that should make it ok. Would it have killed him to say he missed me too?
Probably.
I decided I needed to go back to taking Dr. Gray's dating advice. Let the man pursue and the woman be receptive. If the Principal wants to talk he can contact me. I'll give him the room to pursue again.
I think my plan has backfired, but I'm sticking with it anyway. He came home from work Friday night and we did the usual routine. Sit around, have a beer and exchange stories. He told me all about work, I filled him in on the dogs. There was a strange undertone in the conversation.
Later, when we talked about Thanksgiving vacation coming up he offhandedly mentioned "if" he could get Friday after off. We'd been planning on Disneyland with my mom, sister and brother-in-law since the summer. My sister was working on finding a goddamn house big enough for the dogs and all of us. And he still hadn't asked for the time off?
As calmly as I could, I asked when he was going to find out. He waved his hand dismissively. He'd take care of it... I started to push, he looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Very simply I looked him straight in the eye. He needed to let me know yes, or no by Monday so I could stop my sister from booking a vacation house. There were 4 people besides him making plans. If he can't go, that's understandable but I'm not about to get screwed by it. Again.
The subject was dropped and changed. But the undertone remained. I had this sneaking suspicion the Principal was just biding time until he closed on his house and he could get rid of me. He wouldn't need anyone to watch his dog or house his belongings. He could quite literally move on.
He went to bed before I did. I ground my teeth. He's tired by 9pm every night... You'd think, maybe, just maybe, after a long week away from your girlfriend you could muster enough enthusiasm to, oh I don't know, take her to bed with you? When I joined him a half hour later he didn't even notice.
The following day the undertone was more of a fine mist that settled over everything we did. It crept up my nose and dug in under my fingernails. I started writing to clear my head. The Principal busied himself outside. When I went out to start on the yard, he went inside. At one point, before he headed out to the store, I tried to engage him in a hot, steamy kiss. He smiled and kept his distance so he could get going. He had things to do. I felt so utterly stupid.
After 4 grueling hours in the heat and sun, battling with shrubs, weeds and grass I was ready for a shower and a nap. We were going to The Melting Pot for dinner and I wanted to enjoy every minute of it. Unfortunately, the Principal decided at that moment to lay down in the bedroom for a nap. I was blocked from my shower. I suppose I could have used the guest bath, but all my stuff was in the other room.
Out in the living room I set a blanket on the couch so I wouldn't sweat into the cushins. He came over, a few minutes later, and asked why I was sleeping in the living room. Would he have really wanted my sweaty, stinky body in bed with him?
The nap was a bust. When he got up from his nap I cleaned up and made myself pretty for our dinner out. Melty decadent yumminess in a romatic candle liight setting. I was going to eat it all up.
In an offhand sort of way the Principal told me I looked beautiful. You know, because its required or something. He mentioned it while explaining his observation of how long it took me to get ready. Next, came the joking about how costly the Melting Pot is. He'd mentioned it before. I looked at him straightfaced and offered to go to a different restaurant. He laughed it off.
Again. He started talking about the prices again a mile later. Mentioning the last time he went to the Melting Pot with friends (he excluded the part where it was a date he'd been forced to go on which I remembered from previous conversations) they hadn't even made it to dessert. I wanted to scream! That's the whole fucking point of going there in the first place. Calmly, I again offered to go someplace else. He waved it off again.
Passing by Red Lobster he pointed it out. "We could have popcorn shrimp!" I clamped my hands more tightly together and dismissed the urge to vomit. I told him we could go there if he'd like. He scrunched up his nose and declared we were on our way to the Melting Pot. At this point I didn't care where we ended up as long as they served beer. I was starting to choke on this strange undertone. Perhaps the Principal had been posessed by the EX....
Dinner was a waste. You really should go to the Melting Pot with someone who is into you. All the tables are secluded, romantically lit and the music is strictly background. While the food was amazing and the service great, my date was uninterested. We were the only couple I saw who sat apart. When I leaned over to kiss him I got the brush off after. Conversation was painful, at one point so much so I was forced to look away. On one topic I was ready to leave the restaurant all together.
Then of course there was the preoccupation with his phone. Checking sports stats.. I used to have these moments with the EX.
By the third course the Principal was already planning the night to be over. Following dessert he was ready for PJs. A glance at the bill earned another comment about the price. I sat there feeling as if I was shrinking into myself. No romance, not even a normal evening. If this had been a first or second date I would have accidentally lost his phone number on purpose. The food had been wonderful, I'm sure, but as we were walking out the door two feet apart from one another, I realized I couldn't remember what any of it tasted like.
The drive home was full of yawns. True to his word, 30 seconds after walking in the door he had on his PJs and was sprawled across the couch. I changed into my own and would have normally tamed my wild hair into a ponytail but it still looked too good for that. It was the kind of rockin' hair that happens every blue moon and should be savored.... Should be worn out to a bar so strange men can stare at me and then massacred by sweaty, hot sex. Obviously THAT wasn't happening tonight.
30 minutes after the PJs were on, the Principal was off to bed. I stared after him as I was abandoned on the couch to watch Stripes. There was no goodnight kiss. Just a sheepish look. I drank a couple beers, alone. The weather was beautiful outside, finally cooling down and I couldn't help but feel as if my relationship was doing the same thing. Fall always brings changes, nostalgia and restlessness...
When I climbed into bed, there was barely a sliver of mattress available. The Principal was sprawled across the bed snoring. All of the covers were pushed to the side and the pillows pushed against the headboard. I cringed at the familiarity of such a scene. He rolled over and draped an arm over me, I think more for his own comfort than mine. Despite all the rich food and few beers consumed earlier, I had a difficult time trying to fall asleep.
Daylight came early. The Principal rose around 7am, because he goes to sleep before normal people's grandmothers would. When he's up, I'm awake. The atmosphere in the house changes. I forced myself to roll over and finish getting the whole 8 hours I wanted. It didn't wourk out very well.
Back outside to the yard. Lose myself in manual labor. The Principal helped out by tilling the ground for a good hour before football yanked him by the balls back into the house. I chopped, trimmed, raked, cussed. It was a fabulous release from the tension inside the house.
I think, at some point later that morning, the Principal realized something was amiss. He started laughing and cracking his jokes again. Reaching over to touch me more when he passed by. At one point, after I'd cleaned up from the yard work and was beginning to wonder whether he'd ever leave for New Mexico so I could go to work, he made a half-assed attempt to come on to me.
Men! Please pay attention: This doesn't work!
"You're all clean now." He smirked at me on the couch.
"Yup." I smiled back, or at least I think I did. I might have lost the ability and wasn't aware.
"I haven't had a shower yet, wouldn't want to get you dirty."
"Okay..." yeah, what girl would want that. why don't you go take a fucking shower and then proposition me? why bring up what you're not going to do to me? where is the passion?
Needless to say, I went on to clean my offices in Casa Grande and left the Principal to finish watching his sports before hitting the road himself. He gave me a big hug, passionate kiss, but I can't remember what that felt like either. I was fading.
The ball was back in the Principal's court. If he wants me, he can pursue me. Long distance sucks and I know I haven't been the most appetizing thing to come home to considering the mess I've been. But, and yes there is always, if you have such a short period of time with the one you love wouldn't you want to make the best of it?
Probably.
I decided I needed to go back to taking Dr. Gray's dating advice. Let the man pursue and the woman be receptive. If the Principal wants to talk he can contact me. I'll give him the room to pursue again.
I think my plan has backfired, but I'm sticking with it anyway. He came home from work Friday night and we did the usual routine. Sit around, have a beer and exchange stories. He told me all about work, I filled him in on the dogs. There was a strange undertone in the conversation.
Later, when we talked about Thanksgiving vacation coming up he offhandedly mentioned "if" he could get Friday after off. We'd been planning on Disneyland with my mom, sister and brother-in-law since the summer. My sister was working on finding a goddamn house big enough for the dogs and all of us. And he still hadn't asked for the time off?
As calmly as I could, I asked when he was going to find out. He waved his hand dismissively. He'd take care of it... I started to push, he looked like his eyes were going to pop out of his head. Very simply I looked him straight in the eye. He needed to let me know yes, or no by Monday so I could stop my sister from booking a vacation house. There were 4 people besides him making plans. If he can't go, that's understandable but I'm not about to get screwed by it. Again.
The subject was dropped and changed. But the undertone remained. I had this sneaking suspicion the Principal was just biding time until he closed on his house and he could get rid of me. He wouldn't need anyone to watch his dog or house his belongings. He could quite literally move on.
He went to bed before I did. I ground my teeth. He's tired by 9pm every night... You'd think, maybe, just maybe, after a long week away from your girlfriend you could muster enough enthusiasm to, oh I don't know, take her to bed with you? When I joined him a half hour later he didn't even notice.
The following day the undertone was more of a fine mist that settled over everything we did. It crept up my nose and dug in under my fingernails. I started writing to clear my head. The Principal busied himself outside. When I went out to start on the yard, he went inside. At one point, before he headed out to the store, I tried to engage him in a hot, steamy kiss. He smiled and kept his distance so he could get going. He had things to do. I felt so utterly stupid.
After 4 grueling hours in the heat and sun, battling with shrubs, weeds and grass I was ready for a shower and a nap. We were going to The Melting Pot for dinner and I wanted to enjoy every minute of it. Unfortunately, the Principal decided at that moment to lay down in the bedroom for a nap. I was blocked from my shower. I suppose I could have used the guest bath, but all my stuff was in the other room.
Out in the living room I set a blanket on the couch so I wouldn't sweat into the cushins. He came over, a few minutes later, and asked why I was sleeping in the living room. Would he have really wanted my sweaty, stinky body in bed with him?
The nap was a bust. When he got up from his nap I cleaned up and made myself pretty for our dinner out. Melty decadent yumminess in a romatic candle liight setting. I was going to eat it all up.
In an offhand sort of way the Principal told me I looked beautiful. You know, because its required or something. He mentioned it while explaining his observation of how long it took me to get ready. Next, came the joking about how costly the Melting Pot is. He'd mentioned it before. I looked at him straightfaced and offered to go to a different restaurant. He laughed it off.
Again. He started talking about the prices again a mile later. Mentioning the last time he went to the Melting Pot with friends (he excluded the part where it was a date he'd been forced to go on which I remembered from previous conversations) they hadn't even made it to dessert. I wanted to scream! That's the whole fucking point of going there in the first place. Calmly, I again offered to go someplace else. He waved it off again.
Passing by Red Lobster he pointed it out. "We could have popcorn shrimp!" I clamped my hands more tightly together and dismissed the urge to vomit. I told him we could go there if he'd like. He scrunched up his nose and declared we were on our way to the Melting Pot. At this point I didn't care where we ended up as long as they served beer. I was starting to choke on this strange undertone. Perhaps the Principal had been posessed by the EX....
Dinner was a waste. You really should go to the Melting Pot with someone who is into you. All the tables are secluded, romantically lit and the music is strictly background. While the food was amazing and the service great, my date was uninterested. We were the only couple I saw who sat apart. When I leaned over to kiss him I got the brush off after. Conversation was painful, at one point so much so I was forced to look away. On one topic I was ready to leave the restaurant all together.
Then of course there was the preoccupation with his phone. Checking sports stats.. I used to have these moments with the EX.
By the third course the Principal was already planning the night to be over. Following dessert he was ready for PJs. A glance at the bill earned another comment about the price. I sat there feeling as if I was shrinking into myself. No romance, not even a normal evening. If this had been a first or second date I would have accidentally lost his phone number on purpose. The food had been wonderful, I'm sure, but as we were walking out the door two feet apart from one another, I realized I couldn't remember what any of it tasted like.
The drive home was full of yawns. True to his word, 30 seconds after walking in the door he had on his PJs and was sprawled across the couch. I changed into my own and would have normally tamed my wild hair into a ponytail but it still looked too good for that. It was the kind of rockin' hair that happens every blue moon and should be savored.... Should be worn out to a bar so strange men can stare at me and then massacred by sweaty, hot sex. Obviously THAT wasn't happening tonight.
30 minutes after the PJs were on, the Principal was off to bed. I stared after him as I was abandoned on the couch to watch Stripes. There was no goodnight kiss. Just a sheepish look. I drank a couple beers, alone. The weather was beautiful outside, finally cooling down and I couldn't help but feel as if my relationship was doing the same thing. Fall always brings changes, nostalgia and restlessness...
When I climbed into bed, there was barely a sliver of mattress available. The Principal was sprawled across the bed snoring. All of the covers were pushed to the side and the pillows pushed against the headboard. I cringed at the familiarity of such a scene. He rolled over and draped an arm over me, I think more for his own comfort than mine. Despite all the rich food and few beers consumed earlier, I had a difficult time trying to fall asleep.
Daylight came early. The Principal rose around 7am, because he goes to sleep before normal people's grandmothers would. When he's up, I'm awake. The atmosphere in the house changes. I forced myself to roll over and finish getting the whole 8 hours I wanted. It didn't wourk out very well.
Back outside to the yard. Lose myself in manual labor. The Principal helped out by tilling the ground for a good hour before football yanked him by the balls back into the house. I chopped, trimmed, raked, cussed. It was a fabulous release from the tension inside the house.
I think, at some point later that morning, the Principal realized something was amiss. He started laughing and cracking his jokes again. Reaching over to touch me more when he passed by. At one point, after I'd cleaned up from the yard work and was beginning to wonder whether he'd ever leave for New Mexico so I could go to work, he made a half-assed attempt to come on to me.
Men! Please pay attention: This doesn't work!
"You're all clean now." He smirked at me on the couch.
"Yup." I smiled back, or at least I think I did. I might have lost the ability and wasn't aware.
"I haven't had a shower yet, wouldn't want to get you dirty."
"Okay..." yeah, what girl would want that. why don't you go take a fucking shower and then proposition me? why bring up what you're not going to do to me? where is the passion?
Needless to say, I went on to clean my offices in Casa Grande and left the Principal to finish watching his sports before hitting the road himself. He gave me a big hug, passionate kiss, but I can't remember what that felt like either. I was fading.
The ball was back in the Principal's court. If he wants me, he can pursue me. Long distance sucks and I know I haven't been the most appetizing thing to come home to considering the mess I've been. But, and yes there is always, if you have such a short period of time with the one you love wouldn't you want to make the best of it?
Concert with the Tall Guy
Tall Guy and I had been on approximately 2 dates, had flirted ridiculously over the phone and texted every waking minute of the day. For our third date, he'd scored tickets to the U2 concert. YAY! I was so excited to go to a concert, it had been ages.
And who doesn't LOVE U2??
The day of the concert I rushed home, changed quickly and was walking the dog outside the condo when the giant arrived. Apparently my dog is a fierce protector because he bounded over and rubbed his body all over Tall Guy's legs. I thought it was fate. My dog was even crazy about this guy.
We sat in traffic for 2 hours getting to the concert. If we hadn't had so much to talk about it would have been extremely uncomfortable. There was much talk of music, listening to different bands on his iPod to see if I was familiar with them or liked the tracks. So, far... great time.
The concert stage was massive, and we arrived just in time to grab a beer and rush to our seats before U2 took the stage. We were in the nose bleeds, but it didn't matter. The music and lights could only be described as crazy amazing and I kind of liked being able to sit back in Tall Guy's arms and just enjoy the sensory overload.
Having to yell at each other over the music sucked, especially since he insisted I yell into his less deaf ear. So I was constantly leaning over his huge body to the opposite side. Needles to say, I butted heads with him a few times. I would have been mortified, but then he leaned over and yelled in my ear "This feels like falling in love!"
It really did. Everything was exciting and vibrant. The music pulsed, I felt good in his arms. There was a glow around us. Transported back in time I felt like I was a high school freshman again, having a first crush. And he kept telling me how beautiful, sexy, desirable I was. Who wouldn't love that?
We left early, running through the arena with hands entwined. When I couldn't keep up Tall Guy would swing me up into his arms. It felt surreal... But finally I was happy about dating again.
And who doesn't LOVE U2??
The day of the concert I rushed home, changed quickly and was walking the dog outside the condo when the giant arrived. Apparently my dog is a fierce protector because he bounded over and rubbed his body all over Tall Guy's legs. I thought it was fate. My dog was even crazy about this guy.
We sat in traffic for 2 hours getting to the concert. If we hadn't had so much to talk about it would have been extremely uncomfortable. There was much talk of music, listening to different bands on his iPod to see if I was familiar with them or liked the tracks. So, far... great time.
The concert stage was massive, and we arrived just in time to grab a beer and rush to our seats before U2 took the stage. We were in the nose bleeds, but it didn't matter. The music and lights could only be described as crazy amazing and I kind of liked being able to sit back in Tall Guy's arms and just enjoy the sensory overload.
Having to yell at each other over the music sucked, especially since he insisted I yell into his less deaf ear. So I was constantly leaning over his huge body to the opposite side. Needles to say, I butted heads with him a few times. I would have been mortified, but then he leaned over and yelled in my ear "This feels like falling in love!"
It really did. Everything was exciting and vibrant. The music pulsed, I felt good in his arms. There was a glow around us. Transported back in time I felt like I was a high school freshman again, having a first crush. And he kept telling me how beautiful, sexy, desirable I was. Who wouldn't love that?
We left early, running through the arena with hands entwined. When I couldn't keep up Tall Guy would swing me up into his arms. It felt surreal... But finally I was happy about dating again.
Friday, October 8, 2010
The First Fight
A few weeks ago I mentioned to The Principal that we had never been in an argument. He was home for the weekend and we had a great time. I didn't want to fight with him, but found it strange how we could date for nine months and hadn't snapped yet.
His response was simple. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll have plenty of fights." And he dazzled me with his devilish grin.
I should have kept my mouth closed.
The following weekend we worked together around the yard, lounged in the pool and just enjoyed being... After taking a nap to chase away his headache, we went downtown to an Irish pub. Goal: meet Julie's new boyfriend. I was excited to see her with him. The Principal was AMAZING.
He sat across from new boyfriend guy and chatted him right up so Julie and I could talk. He'd laugh, touch, kiss me so breezily I was afraid he'd turned into a pod person. Normally he's so reserved, this display of open affection was nothing short of miraculous. Julie even commented on it.
The new happy couple had a few drinks then had to take off, so we sat on the patio finishing our beers, listening to the live music, and talking. It was one of those blissfully fun times. Out of nowhere, the conversation turned to a topic that had the Principal going over unfamiliar territory. His past relationships. I salivated, nearly to the point of drooling in public, at the opportunity to find out more about this area of his life. What girl doesn't want to know a little about the other women in their man's history?
The atmosphere was light. He talked openly like never before, I asked questions to keep him talking. A pizza was grabbed, more beer was picked up and finally we were at home on the patio. It was the most fun time we'd spent together in months. I was high on the Principal.
I don't know what happened, but all at once everything in the evening that was light and fun drifted into the night like smoke. If there was a catalyst, I missed it. The Principal clamped down on his past when I asked some question. The same question he would have jokingly answered five minutes earlier. I pressed, not understanding. He became angry, I got defensive.
'Why do you want to know about this?"
"We were just talking about it, it's a discussion. What crawled up your butt?"
He was stern and defiant. I started to cry. I tried to explain I only wanted to know more about him because I'm interested in who he is. Because I love him. I felt like an idiot for letting this upset me, but he was mad.
"I just asked-"
"No! You didn't just ask! You pushed..."
"We were having such a good time. I don't understand what went wrong..."
Eventually, we exchanged more mean words and I stopped talking to him all together. My heart ached from the loss of all that joy we'd been having, at the feeling of being so at one with the Principal. Now I was outside drinking beer and reading a book, wiping tears off my cheeks while he went to bed. Deja vu much?
When I was tired enough, I debated whether or not to sleep on the couch. This is my freaking house! In the bedroom the Principal was passed out on the floor with the dogs. I debated, again, whether I should leave him there or not. Nah, I'm not that mean. I wanted to kick him awake, but at the same time didn't even want to touch him. Instead, I went with the "Hey, you" tactic.
In bed, I stayed as far away from him as possible. I lay on my side, facing the window as close to the edge of the mattress as I could get. As I closed my eyes I swore this would not repeat my relationship with the EX through the Principal. In the morning, I'd gauge what was going on here and move forward. But all through the night my body was hyper aware the Principal was so close.
I woke to scoot farther away if his skin even brushed mine. Early, I gave up trying. The dogs wanted food and the pool looked soothing. Shortly after I was starting to relax on my hot pink inter tube, he emerged from the house. I pretended not to notice as he sat on the patio smoking a cigarette and watching me. I could feel the anger coming from him.
Thankful for the tube, water and distance, I floated blindly to the far side. There would be no relaxing until we talked this out, but my true fear was that this would be the first step toward the end. I mean, The Principal drives all this way to have fun, to be with me and he won't continue wanting to if I can't keep my mouth shut and we fight.
After stubbing out his cigarette, he made his way over to the pool, sat down and put in his feet, right in front of me. His unshaven face looked worn, as if debating how to start. Eventually he did. Saying he hadn't felt good about things when he went to bed last night and that hadn't improved when he woke up. I nodded, agreed. I felt foolish there in the pool, like a little kid having a conversation with her father about being bad. It dawned on me I felt that way because I used to hide from my dad's temper by getting in the pool. Huh, mini psych lesson for the day.
"I ruined a great time by being stubborn..." he muttered. I wanted to agree but instead admitted I don't always know when to give up. He asked what we were going to do. Contemplating, I watched him from behind my glasses.
"We get over it."
"How do we do that?" he replied after some time.
"We forgive each other and move on. Or we don't." I said simply. After all the stress and heart break I'd endured in the past year I was preparing myself for the fact he may not want to go on. I steeled myself. I could handle it.
He appeared to digest the statement. Roll it around a bit. Then he slid into the pool, grabbed me up in my ridiculous inter tube and kissed me. We hugged and kissed and smiled. I knew then, it would be ok for now.
His response was simple. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll have plenty of fights." And he dazzled me with his devilish grin.
I should have kept my mouth closed.
The following weekend we worked together around the yard, lounged in the pool and just enjoyed being... After taking a nap to chase away his headache, we went downtown to an Irish pub. Goal: meet Julie's new boyfriend. I was excited to see her with him. The Principal was AMAZING.
He sat across from new boyfriend guy and chatted him right up so Julie and I could talk. He'd laugh, touch, kiss me so breezily I was afraid he'd turned into a pod person. Normally he's so reserved, this display of open affection was nothing short of miraculous. Julie even commented on it.
The new happy couple had a few drinks then had to take off, so we sat on the patio finishing our beers, listening to the live music, and talking. It was one of those blissfully fun times. Out of nowhere, the conversation turned to a topic that had the Principal going over unfamiliar territory. His past relationships. I salivated, nearly to the point of drooling in public, at the opportunity to find out more about this area of his life. What girl doesn't want to know a little about the other women in their man's history?
The atmosphere was light. He talked openly like never before, I asked questions to keep him talking. A pizza was grabbed, more beer was picked up and finally we were at home on the patio. It was the most fun time we'd spent together in months. I was high on the Principal.
I don't know what happened, but all at once everything in the evening that was light and fun drifted into the night like smoke. If there was a catalyst, I missed it. The Principal clamped down on his past when I asked some question. The same question he would have jokingly answered five minutes earlier. I pressed, not understanding. He became angry, I got defensive.
'Why do you want to know about this?"
"We were just talking about it, it's a discussion. What crawled up your butt?"
He was stern and defiant. I started to cry. I tried to explain I only wanted to know more about him because I'm interested in who he is. Because I love him. I felt like an idiot for letting this upset me, but he was mad.
"I just asked-"
"No! You didn't just ask! You pushed..."
"We were having such a good time. I don't understand what went wrong..."
Eventually, we exchanged more mean words and I stopped talking to him all together. My heart ached from the loss of all that joy we'd been having, at the feeling of being so at one with the Principal. Now I was outside drinking beer and reading a book, wiping tears off my cheeks while he went to bed. Deja vu much?
When I was tired enough, I debated whether or not to sleep on the couch. This is my freaking house! In the bedroom the Principal was passed out on the floor with the dogs. I debated, again, whether I should leave him there or not. Nah, I'm not that mean. I wanted to kick him awake, but at the same time didn't even want to touch him. Instead, I went with the "Hey, you" tactic.
In bed, I stayed as far away from him as possible. I lay on my side, facing the window as close to the edge of the mattress as I could get. As I closed my eyes I swore this would not repeat my relationship with the EX through the Principal. In the morning, I'd gauge what was going on here and move forward. But all through the night my body was hyper aware the Principal was so close.
I woke to scoot farther away if his skin even brushed mine. Early, I gave up trying. The dogs wanted food and the pool looked soothing. Shortly after I was starting to relax on my hot pink inter tube, he emerged from the house. I pretended not to notice as he sat on the patio smoking a cigarette and watching me. I could feel the anger coming from him.
Thankful for the tube, water and distance, I floated blindly to the far side. There would be no relaxing until we talked this out, but my true fear was that this would be the first step toward the end. I mean, The Principal drives all this way to have fun, to be with me and he won't continue wanting to if I can't keep my mouth shut and we fight.
After stubbing out his cigarette, he made his way over to the pool, sat down and put in his feet, right in front of me. His unshaven face looked worn, as if debating how to start. Eventually he did. Saying he hadn't felt good about things when he went to bed last night and that hadn't improved when he woke up. I nodded, agreed. I felt foolish there in the pool, like a little kid having a conversation with her father about being bad. It dawned on me I felt that way because I used to hide from my dad's temper by getting in the pool. Huh, mini psych lesson for the day.
"I ruined a great time by being stubborn..." he muttered. I wanted to agree but instead admitted I don't always know when to give up. He asked what we were going to do. Contemplating, I watched him from behind my glasses.
"We get over it."
"How do we do that?" he replied after some time.
"We forgive each other and move on. Or we don't." I said simply. After all the stress and heart break I'd endured in the past year I was preparing myself for the fact he may not want to go on. I steeled myself. I could handle it.
He appeared to digest the statement. Roll it around a bit. Then he slid into the pool, grabbed me up in my ridiculous inter tube and kissed me. We hugged and kissed and smiled. I knew then, it would be ok for now.
LDR
I am in a long distance relationship. Every Friday night I rush home to clean the house, and pace anxiously until The Principal arrives. We catch up on the week, have a beer and go to bed. Sometimes I cook so he has a hot meal when he arrives. If not I make sure to have his favorite sandwich fixings. I need a frilly apron with ruffles down the edges, I really do. Last week he walked in the house with a bouquet and a 12 pack. I felt like I'd been transported back to the 50's, and I liked it. The flowers were purple, because he said he knows how much I like purple.
On Saturday, we work on the house or yard or pool, do a little grocery shopping. Maybe stop by Home Depot or even Bed Bath and Beyond. I don't know, its a busy little weekend. I'll try out a new recipe for dinner. Sometimes we go out. I take advantage of him every chance I get. I do his laundry (I don't know why I do it, he doesn't ask and tries to do it himself. I just want to do something for him.)
Sunday he watches football, to my chagrin. On the TV and computer at the same time. I'm pretty sure he gets mobile updates as well. Its disturbing, but we made a deal. I look the other way on the football crap and I get to pick whatever we watch (movies, TV shows) 7 out of 10 times. I sit outside and read a book. We make lunch, talk about what we have going on the next week. He packs and leaves. I go down to CG and clean my offices. When I return home that night, the house is silent, the back yard is silent and I am alone. I stretch out in bed, take up the entire space to ensure I don't get any doggy company in the middle of the night. His pillow still smells like him.
The rest of the week seems to go by uneventfully. I spend the first half missing him, but by the end of the week I almost dread having him come home because I've grown used to my alone time. And he invades it all weekend. But when he's here I like that. Back and forth, my mind goes from missing/needing to independence/self-sufficiency.
I know this routine will change once he closes on his house. Then, he'll be expecting a rotation of states each weekend. I'll be expected to travel every other week to see him. This will get old. We'll take a weekend off. Then it will be every other weekend off. Then we'll break up. Yes, I'm being a pessimist. I just can't see how The Principal will decide to dedicate himself to all the travel and hard work just to have lil ole me do his laundry and pretending to be Holly Homemaker, when quite obviously I'm Holly's defunct cousin who develops hives when forced to dust, fold clothes, or put anything away.
Plus its the end of the week. He'll be home in a few short hours and I'll forget all the negative thoughts again.
First half of the week= Missing my wonderful man. Seeing a future I could share with him and blah, blah blah.
Second half of the week= Rethinking living the rest of my life alone because that is so much simpler than waiting for that freaking shoe to drop.
On Saturday, we work on the house or yard or pool, do a little grocery shopping. Maybe stop by Home Depot or even Bed Bath and Beyond. I don't know, its a busy little weekend. I'll try out a new recipe for dinner. Sometimes we go out. I take advantage of him every chance I get. I do his laundry (I don't know why I do it, he doesn't ask and tries to do it himself. I just want to do something for him.)
Sunday he watches football, to my chagrin. On the TV and computer at the same time. I'm pretty sure he gets mobile updates as well. Its disturbing, but we made a deal. I look the other way on the football crap and I get to pick whatever we watch (movies, TV shows) 7 out of 10 times. I sit outside and read a book. We make lunch, talk about what we have going on the next week. He packs and leaves. I go down to CG and clean my offices. When I return home that night, the house is silent, the back yard is silent and I am alone. I stretch out in bed, take up the entire space to ensure I don't get any doggy company in the middle of the night. His pillow still smells like him.
The rest of the week seems to go by uneventfully. I spend the first half missing him, but by the end of the week I almost dread having him come home because I've grown used to my alone time. And he invades it all weekend. But when he's here I like that. Back and forth, my mind goes from missing/needing to independence/self-sufficiency.
I know this routine will change once he closes on his house. Then, he'll be expecting a rotation of states each weekend. I'll be expected to travel every other week to see him. This will get old. We'll take a weekend off. Then it will be every other weekend off. Then we'll break up. Yes, I'm being a pessimist. I just can't see how The Principal will decide to dedicate himself to all the travel and hard work just to have lil ole me do his laundry and pretending to be Holly Homemaker, when quite obviously I'm Holly's defunct cousin who develops hives when forced to dust, fold clothes, or put anything away.
Plus its the end of the week. He'll be home in a few short hours and I'll forget all the negative thoughts again.
First half of the week= Missing my wonderful man. Seeing a future I could share with him and blah, blah blah.
Second half of the week= Rethinking living the rest of my life alone because that is so much simpler than waiting for that freaking shoe to drop.
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