Text Fight

Technology. I tell you it is ruining American's lives and saving ugly lamps. In the past, you had to fight face to face, or at least over the telephone. Nowadays you can just send a text message and throw your phone in your purse. Instant last word. Because if you refuse to continue the conversation by reading the response, you have, essentially, gotten the last word.

However, you will see irrate women all over dig viciously in their purses after hearing a tiny beep. They claw at their key boards or tap in a heated staccato on the touch screen. They drop open their handbags and shove that fucker to the bottom in hopes that will keep the next beep from surfacing. The wild look in their eyes confuses clerks at gas stations, tellers at the bank and co-workers. You think they would get it. I'm sure they text fight too.

After ditching Work Guy the night before, my failed attempt at socializing in a small group still giving me heart burn, I received no text until late afternoon. "How's your day?" Grrr...

I was still trying to analyze why I was so upset. Was I being ridiculous? I felt like I had some pretty valid points so I responded "Good, how's your day?"

"Fine. Played basketball. I missed you last night, and more this morning. I'm sorry if I annoyed you. Did you (or do you) just need a little space?" It went on from there.

That opening was like saying "Go ahead and tell me what bothered you." So I did. He rebuffed, apologized, wanted to know what the bigger deal was. It went back and forth for hours while I cleaned offices. I slammed that poor phone in my purse so many times.. It's a good thing I pay extra for insurance.

I told him I couldn't go to California with him for Easter. I knew he wouldn't be happy but my mom was bitching about purging the house of anything that reminded her of my father, and guess who gets to be in charge of that? Rather than spend an excruiatingly long short weekend repeating the Couple's night, only times ten and with his family, I should just stay home and take care of my own stuff. Plus, I had been stressing about getting home in time to clean that Sunday.

He revolted. Told me how sad he was that I didn't want to go. Did I say I didn't want to go? No! I said I couldn't go, I had other responsibilities to take care of and the whole cleaning thing! It was a solid excuse. He offered to help with my other responsibilities, help me clean or pay my mom's friend to clean for me...

Finally, my hysteria leaked through the written word and he said we should talk about it over the phone later. Did that mean I was winning? I let him have the last word, because somehow, I knew my silence was stronger.

When I got home from cleaning I read for a little while, wanting to calm my nerves. I really didn't want to have a talk with anyone about how bad I am in social situations. We made small talk before getting to the fight.

Why do people feel like they have to go over verbally what they already texted? I hate repition. But there he went, saying how sorry he was for grabbing my boobs when I've told him I don't like it, regardless if he's joking or not. He apologized, I told him that was nice. I'm sure he would apologize the next time he did it because that seemed to be the pattern. Grab boobs, don't do that, I'm sorry. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It just made me start getting mad again. So I took the stance I had with the social security conversation the night before. If you tell people who think they are right that they are in fact right they will shut the fuck up.

"It will be ok. I will get over it. I will go to California with you, meet all your family and have a good time." Insert smile. That was what he said he wanted, so that was what he would get.

"But you said you're going to be anxious, I don't want you to be anxious. I want you to have fun and be yourself. They're going to love you, I want them to get to know you so they see why I love you so much." Very sweet.

"Well, being myself means that I will be anxious. But I will go to California, meet your family and have fun." Insert a much, much more forced smile. He can't see me but one of my jobs had a training titled Smile! Customers can hear it! and I have always lived by that motto.

"I want you to tell me if you're anxious.."

"Oh, don't worry. I won't tell you if I'm anxious. I'll have fun, we'll have fun." I'm smiling really hard now. Annunciating clearly so he'll finally get it.

"But I want you to tell me if you're anxious. I want to help you." Good God. Please shoot me now. You don't want me to be anxious, but you want me to be myself? This will get us nowhere. I told you what you wanted to hear! I smiled like a pageant queen so you could hear it.

"No, I will not tell you. If this is what it feels like to be open then I would rather not tell you things are bothering me. You're making me feel like a nutcase, " granted I'm pretty sure I am a nutcase but I don't believe people should drive the point home, "and I told you we will go and have fun." The smile is causing my eyes to water.

I remember being 16, super depressed, in Iowa. My sister and I were surrounded by family members. My grandmother's evil eyes laughing as she made backhanded compliments. I would run to the safety of my room and hide, nervous tears screwing up my mascara. I couldn't explain it, or handle it. Instead of talking to me like I was a nutcase, my sister went to the drugstore and got me some over the counter stress reliever. Placebo effect, I'm sure, but what helped more than the drug was that my sister loved me for who I was. Imperfection wasn't going to make her think I was less strong.

This memory made me start crying. I miss my sister. I miss my mother, even though she lives disconcertingly close, but she isn't the same. I don't think she cares anymore. I think I am her sister-in-law rather than her daughter. I miss my father, who I will never see again and never give me the excuse to blame him for stressing me out. But most of all I miss my sister.

I cried quietly, while he talked about openess, blah, blah, helping me through the anxiety with a code word, commit me now, taking walks so I could calm down, wow he really does think I'm a psycho, blah, blah blah.

I just need him not to point out that I need the time to breathe. I just need him not to tease me when I get tongue tied or overwhelmed. I just need him to drop me off at my sisters house and leave me there until he is done with his family get together. Is that so much to ask?

I nodded and agreed. Not to any code word. Not to anything in particular. I just wanted to tell him he was right so he would shut the fuck up and I could ask my friends if they have any Xanax for my upcoming long holiday weekend with my honey.

Yes, That was sarcastic. And Yes. I realize I am a nutcase who would be better off never dating and raising many furry cats.

Couple's Dinner

After Lady Gaga, and getting to sleep in, Work Guy and I went to our breakfast place.

I always pay, because he pays for pretty much everything else we do. It was a beautiful morning, warm but with a cool breeze. We ate, talked little, then went back home to nap. It was so comforting. I enjoy him, just being around him.

So the next day at work he emailed and asked if I wanted to go for a fish fry at his best friend's house. As I do love some fried fish I said yes. Just me and Work Guy and his best friend and wife. It didn't dawn on me right away that this was becoming a habit. I suppose that is what couples do and all, I have just always feared actually becoming one.

Work Guy started planning our week. I told him that Friday night I was going out with Kelly and Ange, so he decided we would have a sleepover Thursday night then do the fish thing Saturday.

It was only Tuesday! My week suddenly was gone due to all this planning and I started to freak out. Thursday sleepover, Friday friends, Saturday couple dinner, Sunday Clean offices and BAM! I'm back to work on Monday. It was only Tuesday for Christ's sake! My response was no to Thursday. I have other things I want to do. I don't know what they are yet, but I don't want to miss out on them because I suddenly got shifted into a pattern of which I seem to have no control.

He laughed at me. Tried to get me to see how little we see each other, and let him stay over Thursday. I wasn't having it. He ended up coming over anyway. We went to Barnes & Noble to get a book I needed to read for work, he gave advice as to how I should approach the boss man for a promotion... I felt like I was being taught.

At the bookstore, however, he got to see my true colors. While he was off trying to find me a business book on culture, that I wanted to read about as much as I want to get a colonoscopy, I found 3 books I couldn't bare to part with. They sang to me, and smelled so good.

I began to panic, like I usually do at any bookstore, that my life will end too soon and I will have missed out on reading every book there is to read. Imagine! Dying before you had experienced every story there was! Never getting to meet those people trap in ink on a page requiring you to make them come to life!

He made me put the books back. I glared. I wanted to kick him and throw myself down on the floor like a three year old begging for a toy. Work Guy promised that if I bought none of the books here (he said I could get them cheaper online, like I didn't know that) he would buy me the one I need and one of the others I was clutching to my chest in a death grip.

I paced back and forth. I am poor. No money to spend on utilities let alone books.... Ok. Begrudgingly I handed over my stack. It was painful. They turned to dust before my eyes and I wanted to take a shower. Those poor books, had just been given the hope of a home to have it torn away.

We went to another store. I was relegated to the car.

After some pizza I felt more myself and stopped planning bizarre torture for Work Guy. Then I showed him the door. I was done for the night and he could go home now. I think he was slightly surprised that I made him go. I mean, he was already there, had packed a change of clothes "just in case" and it was after 9pm. I didn't care. I had told him no sleepover and I was holding on to any type of control I could manage.

Saturday rolled around and I really didn't want to leave my house. It needs to be cleaned, but all of these activities with Work Guy have made me lazy. I met up with him and we headed to the married friends home. Cutter was ecstatic. He drooled all over the back of the car, which made me smile because I know Work Guy hates that. He will never truly appreciate good drool from a happy doggie.

The couple were nice, I've met them twice before. We sat around and talked, shared memories from the two guys growing up. Cutter peed nine hundred thousand times to tell everyone who really owned the yard. Then he shit 3 more times to drive the point home. It was a lovely evening.

At one point, Work Guy and his buddy left for Starbucks to get the newly pregnant lady a tea. I helped her clean the kitchen, then we watched TV. I was a little uncomfortable. She's nice, but when did I lose my ability to talk to people about stuff? Once they came back we sat on the couch and watched TV. I wanted to go home. I can do this at home. Better yet, I could be reading my new book on the patio at home and not have to inject a sentence into the small talk every 30 minutes.

Around 10 I thought we would be leaving. We took the dogs outside to play, his friend trying to get them to share a rope bone, but Cutter set him straight on the whole idea of sharing. We sat around and drank some more, chatted. I got to hear about their other friends and experiences.

Why wasn't I talking more? Why was I so preoccupied with going home? I went inside to grab a cigarette and ended up playing with their dog. She blitzed around with her pudgy little body and I jumped back and forth to egg her on. Why do I get along better with animals than people? Then I petted their enormous cat. They really overfeed these poor creatures.

When I came back outside and shared with the group what I had been up to they all smiled indulgently. Kate and her love of animals. I felt like a novelty. Especially to Work Guy. I stood behind him, kind of like I was ready to be off. He ignored that and teased me, so I put my hand to his face. He shrugged it off, irritated. I felt as if I had spilled paint all over the Principal's floor again. Work Guy chastised me that I been petting the cat, and he's allergic. I wanted to become a shrinky dink.

He asked why I was standing, several times, very pointedly. I wanted to stand. Finally I sat. I zoned out while they talked. I could tell that the wife did too. She was used to this. It was her life. I started to daydream about being somewhere else.

Then Work Guy told me to have a cigarette. I was still holding it, but I always feel so uncomfortable smoking around people who don't. Not to mention one that's pregnant.

"Go ahead and smoke. You won't bother anyone."

"I'm ok."

"You can smoke, go ahead."

"Really, I'm ok." Tried to smile apologetically.

"You can have a cigarette, Kate. I can tell you want to."

"No. I am fine." Annunciate. Perhaps he'll understand.

The conversation continued on and I went back to daydreaming. After a while I noticed that Work Guy's beer wasn't getting any lower in his glass. I began to fixate on it. Just drink the damn beer! An hour later and it appeared he had maybe taken 1 sip. I wanted to scream. I could have just had 3 beers to your one sip, what is wrong with you! Granted I had stopped drinking because I had thought a four hour hang out session would come to its conclusion soon.

"Just smoke a cigarette already." He gave me an exasperated look. Everyone was staring at me. My throat closed and my chest began to tighten.

"I'm really ok." Nervous smile.

"I can tell you want one. You keep playing with your lighter."

"Really, I am fine." It felt like there was a wave of light pulsating in my chest. An atomic bomb. An ugly orgasm of pain ready to strike.

"Just have a cigarette, no one cares."

"Yeah, go ahead. We don't mind." His friend interjected.

I was losing control. My eyes would soon start to tear if no one left me the hell alone.

"I'll be ok. I would stop wanting one if you-" pointed evil look at Work Guy, "would stop bringing it up."

"Well, you were playing with your lighter!"

"It's sitting on my lap, and I wasn't even touching it!" I wanted to run away. Perhaps I could call Ange and have her call me back with some emergency that could help me flee this newly created living hell.

Finally there was a reprieve. And the beer very slowly inched down down his glass. He talked about our sex life, candidly. I tried to put on a brave face and joke around, but I wanted to slap him. We weren't to the stage yet, like his married friend, where he could just open up and share as if he was expected to take it for granted and mock openly.

Then, he talked about his grandpa getting social security. He laughed about the fact that the man is a millionaire yet he collects social security. He and his friend started going off about how people shouldn't get social security and they should just save their money for the future. Where was I? The Republican National Party?

That bad burny feeling was entering my chest again. What about people who live paycheck to paycheck? What about teachers? With a shrug they thought those people should fend for themselves. These two men who grew up in fancy suburbs, in nice houses and had relatives who made millions. Took private jets and had their own personal limos at their disposal. And they all believed that my mom shouldn't have a right to do anything but work for the rest of her life. Or me, for that matter. What about elderly people with no families to take care of them when they are too infirm to work? Their families couldn't afford to take care of them, their own children and save for the future.

I kept feeling like I was going to cry. That life is hopeless unless you're rich and have every opportunity to make money. As they argued with me, I kept hearing the Ben Fold's song "Bitch went nuts" in the background and finally just said the one thing I most certainly was not thinking.

"You're right." And breathed deeply as they thought they had won. I would just crawl deeper into the back of my mind and pretend I was at home. My heart was breaking into a thousand peices again. I will never be happy.

The boys started talking about a movie they wanted to see the next day. Futuristic comic book type that had gotten bad reviews. But there were chicks with pigtails and dragons so I should love it, right? Fuck off.

"I can't go tomorrow. I have to work." I wanted to say, some of us have to practice at working for the rest of our lives because if people like you keep breeding I won't have any social security to look forward to...

"We can got to a noon show." Work Guy says. Everyone looks at me expectantly. What am I to say?

"I have some other things around the house that I need to do before I go to work." What I really wanted to say was that I like to have some down time on my weekend before I have to go to work. Rushing to Casa Grande after a movie doesn't really fit in with that.

"It has dragons.." Oh if that's all it takes. Sure.

"No."

They all went inside and I had my cigarette. I was so wound up inside I wanted to cry, again. It was a beautiful cool night and I was forced to feel like my skin was too tight. I followed them in the house, praying we get to go soon. They made me watch the trailer of the movie, as if that would change my mind. I informed them it had gotten really bad reviews, again. They didn't care. I said no again.

We left, saying thank you and what a nice evening it had been. I decided I am just not a people person. In the car I was silently working through why the night had bothered me so much. I'm depressed, so that probably was the main thing.

Work Guy asked what I was thinking. And he's the college grad... I tried to brush it off but he pushed. I told him I didn't like how he kept telling me to smoke. He apologized. Told me he loves me. I wanted to say "Then you need to learn to take a hint."

He complained that I wasn't holding his hand. His arm had been draped over me, and I was holding on to that but had missed that he wanted a hand hold. He acted as though I missed something very important, told me he just needs to feel loved. It was an odd manipulation. Making me feel guilty for not holding his hand when I had felt like an idiot all night with his talk of our sex life, my smoking and democratic views. Didn't he remember me saying I how much I detest hand holding? I didn't think I could crawl back into myself any further.

In the parking lot where I had left my car, I looked back at Cutter and asked if he wanted to go home and read a book. Work Guy took the hint. So sometimes he can....

"Want to have a sleepover?"

"Not tonight." I smiled, trying to act like everything was ok. I kissed him briefly and went home. To my patio and book and the feeling that I was in the right place with the one person who would always treat me well. Cutter. I half expected a text or call from Work Guy as I read my book. Nothing.

The next morning, nothing. It is now afternoon, and nothing.

Couple's Party

Work Guy has wowed the crap out of me. He likes me without my makeup on. He takes me to basketball games and doesn't try to make me like basketball. We cuddle and go to breakfast and talk all the time. He throws the frisbee for Cutter (but everyone does that because you just can't ignore that fabulous dog unless you're completely soulless.) He brings me flowers every week and watches movies with me.

He did unfortunately force Cutter and I to hike a mountain, but rewarded us with sushi and ice cream after, so it wasn't a total nightmare. But the best part was that he got me Lady Gaga tickets.

We planned to stop by a friend's house for a bbq before the concert. I didn't really think anything of it at first. I mean we have been there before, nice married couple with no kids who like to cook and drink beer. My type of people. They don't even expect you to help with anything, just bring more beer and enjoy.

So we headed over there and I was greeted by the hosts, their friend who were getting married the following weekend, another married couple from work, and 3 other married couples quickly joined. I soon realized that I was out of my element.

One or two married couples out and about is manageable. They're happy not to be at home, or doing their taxes, so you can relax and talk as a group of individuals. But as the numbers rise, they start to communicate at as duo. Like Siamese twins....

For example, while alone with one wife we discussed in detail how happy her husband was with his new $12 shorts that he had taken to wearing them everyday. At first it was funny, but the rest of our conversation with the two of them centered around those shorts. And what a great deal they were, and how comfortable. Underneath it all you could tell she loathed the shorts, and he loved them all the more despite her.

I quickly ran out of witty things to say and just drank more beer. Then there was another couple that never separated from each other and told one another's stories while the other laughed and nodded. My focus became a tennis match. He talked, I looked to her to see the nod. Looked at him to continue, looked to her to see the nodding. My neck hurt and I couldn't concentrate on the story. The engaged couple pretty much just talked to the hostess about the upcoming wedding, so I stayed clear of them.

A guy and, I assume his girlfriend, never left the kitchen and acted as if they didn't care whether or not anyone else was at the party. The host manned the grill, occasionally pointing out his technique to the three men flanking him around the sizzling pork. I began to recede further into my head. If it weren't for the concert I would have fled.

In the car, I started by saying "The thing about couple's parties-" and was immediately given a look.

It wasn't designed to be a couple's party, he said. Just a bbq.

"Then why were there only couples there? I certainly didn't see any single people, or half couples in the group. And they follow each other around and talk for one another-"

"You're seriously over analyzing this."

"That's what I do. That's what I write about." and in a smaller voice "I thought you knew that, you've read my blog."

He quickly changed tack and tried to get me to talk it out the way I had started but my train had been derailed. Is this why I hardly write anymore? Because I'm over analyzing and not just going with the flow?

The concert was ok. I expected more from you, Gaga. But I still enjoyed the music, all the crazy costumed concert goers. We met up with his mother-in-law, who is 3 years older than my sister. She and her friend had come to the concert after flying back from Palm Springs on a private jet. Life is hard.

After the concert we went home and I tried to just go with the flow. I cuddled into him and slept the night through. I would just have to see where this went, and what becomes of me.

But I had to ask myself, how much do couples give up of themselves just to be together?