Three weeks ago:
(Because I write blogs I don’t post these days … )
This is not the blog post I wanted to post today. The blog post I wanted to share with you was filled with love and all things smushy. The one I’m actually going to share with you is not. At all. In fact, it’s safe to say I’m jolly pissed off.
The story: A dude came to my house for some work related stuff with Bear. This dude is 21 years old, and the only thing we really have in common is that we smoke pot. I’m nice to him because he brings me freebies sometimes, but we’re talking friendly-nice, not flirty-nice. The kid is 21 years old. I’m 31. That’s really not my bag. I’d honestly feel like I was doing something wrong. That’s waaaaaaaay too young for me.
*Me. My personal opinion. Not judgement on anyone else.
It’s only the third time I’ve actually met this fella, and he’s quite cool. He’s easy to talk to, he’s friendly, polite, respectful, and I actually think he might have a little bit of a man-crush on Bear. It’s adorable to watch. He’s a little bit like a really annoying teeny-tiny dog. You know, like a chihuahua or something equally pointless and rat-like. I’m a bulldog kinda gal. I could stretch to a sausage dog. Little dogs irritate the crap out of me, especially when women carry them around in handbags. Quite ironic really, seeing as I live in Essex, home of the handbag-pooch combo.
The moment that all three of us were in the same room, I knew something was wrong. Bear was seriously avoiding eye contact with me, and he was ignoring every question I’d asked him. I’m not sure the little dude noticed, talking about everything and nothing at a million miles an hour, and I thought perhaps I’d imagined it. I only really went out there to say a quick hello and thanks for the cakes he’d brought me. Not the kind of cakes you’d want to share with your Nan, I must point out. Yes, that’s right, we’re talking space cakes.
(In fact, we’re not. We’re talking about space banana bread and it was RANK. Never again.)
After a few minutes, it was obvious that Bear was definitely pissed with me, and it had become obvious to the little dude too. He raised his eyebrows at me, and I could feel my face flush red. What the fuck? What was going on here? Why is Bear being like this? As well as pretending I wasn’t even in the room, he had started getting snappy with the little dude.
I made my excuses (“mother needs tech advice”), left the room, and that’s where I stayed until the little dude left, a couple of hours later.
All the time I was in the other room I wracked my brain to try and work out what had gone wrong. My first thought was that Bear was jealous because he does get insanely jealous. He’s the most jealous man I’ve ever dated, by a very fucking long shot. (Paranoid schizophrenic … the name kinda gives it away, huh?) I’d put makeup on for the first time in close to two weeks, and I got dressed too. Proper dressed, not just exchanging pyjamas for sweatpants and then right back again. Maybe he thought I’d put a little special effort in for this little dude? Although that didn’t make sense either because just an hour before the little dude turned up Bear and I had fucked furiously and silently in the bedroom, as I was getting ready. He knew my dressing up (ish) had been for his benefit … Surely?
I couldn’t understand it. I thought perhaps he’d read a message he hadn’t liked, but I hadn’t left my phone or laptop lying around anywhere. Also: I have no one to send me messages that he wouldn’t like. I have no friends now, remember?
What the fuck? What’s happening? Why is he being so awful to me?
I ended up crying my makeup off and changing into my pyjamas. Default mode.
He popped his head into the room I had been hiding in, and told me that he wasn’t angry at me, he was angry at the little dude and he would explain everything after the little dude left. He did. He came in, sat down, and explained. This little dude had asked about me the second he’d walked in. No word to Bear, just, “Where’s NSSITC?”
Then, even after little dude had text Bear to ask if we wanted those cakes you wouldn’t let your Nan eat, and we said no, he still brought them along regardless.
Now, I heard a snippet of the conversation as the little dude was leaving, and this was exactly what I heard:
“You needn’t have done that mate, but thanks. Remember you have paid for my work.”
“Yeah, but you’re seriously undercharging me, mate. Your work is amazing. You won’t accept extra money, and I wholeheartedly believe you deserve a tip, so accept the free pot and cakes. Please.”
Awww. Ain’t that the cutest?
Apparently not to Bear. He did calm down by the time little dude left, and he told me that he realised he’d been a fucking moron. He apologised to me. He’d gotten jealous, and he knew that I would think it was because I’d put makeup on and was wearing the outfit I was. Tight jeans, black body, leopard-print overshirt. It’s a skinny outfit because I’ve lost about a stone in a month. I felt good. That’s why I got dressed and put makeup on. I felt good for the first time in a while. Remember I moaned about putting the weight on? It’s gone, and then some.
I got upset. Of course, I did, because I’m a girl and it was awful; the way he looked at me. He got angry, stormed out, slammed the door, stomped about, threw things, frowned and growled …
I stayed in bed, cried myself to sleep at 8:00 pm, and woke up every hour on the hour from 12:00 am onwards. At midnight, I sent him a message telling him exactly why I was so upset. His scathing anger towards me had been obvious, and he had humiliated me in front of some 21-year-old kid. Needlessly too. I don’t think this kid has a crush on me, and I certainly don’t have a crush on him. If anything, I actually think this kid looks up to Bear. Obviously, Bear can’t see that.
He slept on the couch and I hid in bed. That’s how we stayed, with brief periods of silent, furious arguments (so we didn’t wake the kid), and then he left early this morning for work. He did eventually respond to my super-long, midnight message, apologising and asking me if I wanted to leave him. That’s always the first thing he says when we have any fight.
“Are you leaving me?”
My answer is always the same:
“We’re fighting. Everyone fights. Not all fights mean the end. I’m not leaving you. I love you, but right now I don’t like you.”
For the record, we’ve had a great couple of weeks. We’ve been having sex, cuddling, being cute, not fighting … and then the little dude walked in and everything changed. In one split second. The very split second that Bear warned me about, right at the beginning of our relationship. I was stupid of me to brush it under the carpet like it wasn’t real. It is real. Very real. I didn’t win over the voices in his head last night, and I hated that.