You asked me last night if I loved you. I said, “With all my heart.” You then asked me if I thought you loved me. You didn’t think I answered fast enough and you got up and walked out while mumbling, “Well, I guess that’s my answer.” Did you even hear my answer? Probably not. This is just one more instance where you only hear what you want to hear….especially when drinking.
We were supposed to sit down and talk about us. It’s really kind of sad too – you don’t seem to think there is an “us” anymore, however, we never really get around to talking about us – we always talk about you. You pick out all the negatives on a daily basis and remind me of them constantly. Being in a relationship means there should be communication from both sides. I ask too many questions, you ask absolutely none. In my book, questions and inquiries indicates an interest in wanting more information because it matters or because one cares. When there are no questions or concerns, it means there is no interest.
Every time we sit down to talk, you have to have a drink. Not one. Not two. All of them. It’s no wonder we never get anything accomplished. You’ve said yourself you don’t remember what happened, let alone any conversation (including promises and intentions) from the night before. Guess what? I remember every single word. I remember every single tear. I remember every single promise. I remember every single stumble. Last night you said that we’ve had talks about us during the week, without a drink. I strongly disagree. When asked for a specific instance you couldn’t name even one topic of discussion we’d had about “us” during the week.
What I’ve learned is that when you drink, you’ll freely tell me that you love me and offer more hugs and kisses than normal. I’m absolutely saddened to my core that I’ve allowed myself to stay with someone that can only tell me they love me when they’re in the bottom of a bottle. I never in a million years would have envisioned my life that way. I would never wish that for my daughter and if my boys were doing that to the woman they loved, I’d beat their ass myself. It’s kind of ironic that I sat in a booth exactly one week ago at dinner with a friend who was having similar issues and I was the one giving her advice. I told her how special she was and how she didn’t deserve what he was handing out. The mean words, the harsh touch, the mind games…..all things that the sober person remembers and plays over in their mind day after day after day. Apologies can’t fix that. She agreed with me and knew changes needed to be made. Well….we know where that all ended, we buried him yesterday. It scares the absolute shit out of me to think that could be us someday. I know you say you’re stronger than that and too selfish, but I disagree. You are weak. You are broken. You are sick. But see, when people are sick, they go to the doctor and get medicine. If they have cancer, they get chemo treatment. If they have a broken leg, they get it casted and fixed. Once they begin healing they take baby steps to build back up their strength and endurance. As any good athlete knows, rebuilding after an injury is critical. Making smarter choices, doing small positive things on a daily basis, eating right, avoiding potential hazards and most of all believing they will get better and stronger!
I see you. I hear you. I feel you. Contradict all you want, but I know your choices and decisions before you do. Am I going to call you out on them if I feel they’re not the best choice for you? Abso-freaking-lutely. That’s what friends do. They tell you what you need to hear, not what you want to hear. The truth hurts. You have this new-found interest in Brad all of a sudden. What the Hell? You honestly think it’s in your best interest to go see an old friend after umpteen years of not seeing each other, on a Thursday night at midnight no less….after you’re shit faced drunk? Really? Childish. And wow, what an impression that would leave with him. Can you just hear him sharing that with old friends back home? “Dude. My buddy came to see me and it was sad to see. He couldn’t even stand up straight. Same old same old, just like his old man.” I can only imagine what all your
bitches whores girls think when you hit them up at all hours of the night via text, Snap or Messenger. “Awesome. He’s drinking again. Chat with him for a few minutes. Tell him everything that’s wrong in my life so he feels like he’s needed and like a valiant knight in shining armor, he saved the day.” Don’t forget to send a little selfie in my underwear, he likes that, and I know he’ll send me a pic back of himself flexing in the mirror or from the work truck. Grow up.
Let’s talk about money. After several drinks you’re quick to remind me that you’ll give me your last dime. After all, I’ve provided a roof over year head, transportation, food, lights, heat, water, TV etc for more than a year. Funny thing is….when we fight, you always want it back so you can turn and run. You’re very quick to drop the “I’m out of here” comment. Just stop. You have nowhere to go. You know it. I know it. Your threats don’t work with me. I don’t even feel sorry for you anymore. You throw it up in my face regularly that you pay for “everything”. Giving me $200 towards my $900+ rent and handing over $50 for a phone bill, isn’t even a drop in the bucket. Yes, you’ve helped more with groceries lately and I thank you for that. If we go out to dinner, you rarely pay….if you do, you give me cash for YOUR portion of the meal and I still pay for my own. That’s all fine and good but don’t tell me that you pay for everything when we go out. Yes, I’ve got my bank information to prove it. You like to throw it up in an argument that I never have any money. No, I don’t make enough money to support the both of us and our current spending. You are making just about as much as I am and you’re giving me maybe $300 total in a month. Where is the rest of it? You’re always on me about a budget….where is yours? To be fair, let’s write it all down and see where our money really goes. Fair enough?
I guess what this all boils down to is what needs to happen moving forward. Rehashing and reliving the past is your favorite thing to do, not mine. I prefer to look forward. I’ve told you on more than one occasion that I want a man who thinks so highly of me that he couldn’t imagine entertaining another female, even in idle chit chat, let alone full conversation and pictures back and forth. I want a man that can’t keep his hands off of me….couch cuddling, a touch on the leg, hand holding, kisses, hugs and yes, sex. Possession. Passion. I want a man that wants everyone to know that I’m his and he couldn’t be more proud to have me. I want to be told that I’m loved. I want to be shown in ways that matter to ME. I want the mid-afternoon flirty text or pic that says he’s thinking about me and can’t wait until we get home. (And I want that text or pic to be sent to only me, not a standard one that all the roadkill vultures get.) I want the random notes left on the bathroom mirror. I want to make plans together for the weekend and I want them to happen – sober. I want him to make plans for a few months away…short trips somewhere (back home, Wyoming, Ft. Scott), whatever. I want to hear him tell his friends and family how much I mean to him and that he honestly couldn’t imagine not having me by his side. I want to be included. I want to be wanted.
This is the real world and I know I can’t have everything I want. That’s fair. Even if I got half, it would be better. There is always give and take but it can’t be one sided all the time. I can’t, and won’t, walk on eggshells every night and day depending upon your attitude. I will not fight against the bottle – that is a battle I will never win. I will not fight against your war stories. I will not fight against all the other bitches whores girls vying for your attention. I deserve to be happy. You deserve to be happy. If we aren’t doing that for each other, there is no need to move on any further. I do love you, with every piece of my heart and mind. I’m going to ask one more question: Do you love me enough?