“You know, I really appreciate that you thanked me for that. There were a couple of weeks, a few weeks back, where you didn’t say thanks and it really upset me.”
Unless you hadn’t already worked it out, I’m fucking fuming.
Bear had done some work for a fella. That fella had paid Bear in a rather large bag of a certain herbal item 🍂 (for me), and it kinda turned into a regular arrangement, one that worked very well for all parties involved. It made sense really, seeing as Bear barely works and I do all the working. I pay the rent. I pay bailiffs off. Sometimes, I sacrifice my own bills for his. I do pay mine, of course, but they’re occasionally late. Bear isn’t known for his great credit score, money-handling, or bill-paying. We’ll just leave that where it is. We can’t exactly blame dementia anymore. The tests came back negative, remember?
But when he said that to me, I wanted to punch his face in. Well, actually, what I wanted to do was tell him this:
“You’re kidding me, right? You do realise that you haven’t paid the rent once since we’ve been here together? And you had arrears on the old place too, so I’m assuming you were just as bad back there. If we’re talking in terms of thanks, perhaps you should say it a bit often?”
I couldn’t fucking believe he’d said that to me. Sometimes I wonder if he’s aware of how much money he ‘owes’ me. I’m not counting. I’m not going to make him pay it back. But all those times he said these exact words to me:
“Oh, thanks, you know I’ll pay you back, right? As soon as I can!”
Mmhmmm, sure. That’s why I didn’t get the £70 from the other day. Or the £50 that I had to put in to pay that old bill of his. Or the two phone bills I paid? How about we have a little chat about the fact that I had to pay the extortionate Sky bill from the other month? Or those £10’s and £20’s here and there that I put across for all manner of things. BS’s new jacket. Online groceries. School uniform, X box controllers …
I NEVER grumble about this. I NEVER grumble about the money situation. It’s not an issue usually. I am fully aware that I generally earn more than him, and his earnings can be super sporadic. He can go from having everything to nothing in the blink of an eye. I have accepted all of this. This seems to be a trend for me … It seems to be the case with the majority of men I meet, but that’s probably got something to do with the fact that I’m an actual workaholic. I hate not having money. I make sure I have funds available ‘just in case’ and, again, I NEVER grumble about that. But can you believe he said those words to me? I mean, it would have been rude for me NOT to have said thanks in such a situation, but really? Did he say that to me?
For a split second, I thought about erupting into a full-blown fight, but there’s very little point. Hence today’s blog. We’ve argued about money before, mostly about not having enough. It doesn’t really seem to achieve anything. There have been a few times before where I’ve brought up him not doing enough work. We’re both self-employed … We both need to pull our weight here, you know? And, sometimes, he doesn’t pull his weight. When he’s wallowing in self-pity, being angry, and lying around on the couch, sleeping all day, he’s not pulling his weight. He even admits as such afterward, once the fight has passed and he’s finished using stupid excuses. And then there’s the burst of activity for a few days before life goes right back to normal again … I’m working all hours of the sun and he’s napping on the couch. I know he gets up earlier than I do every day, but still. Come on already.
Don’t worry, we’re not breaking up or anything, but there are a few things I just can’t seem to say to him. In fact, there are quite a few things I can’t say to him, not unless he’s in the right kinda mood. Nine times out of ten, he’s definitely not in the mood for constructive criticism. I gotta pick my moments carefully, but I guess that comes hand in hand with dating a schizophrenic who we don’t think is a schizophrenic at all. We’re still waiting on that mental health assessment and it cannot come soon enough. It’s starting to look more and more like he was misdiagnosed. He has a mental disorder of some description, but schizophrenia? I’ve dated the guy for a year and there are very few symptoms that I think would tie him to that label. Bipolar, perhaps? I don’t know … I’m not a doctor so I shouldn’t speculate at all, but those are my thoughts. He DEFINITELY needs some sort of medication to stabilise him while he figures out his anger and stuff, and that’s kinda what we’re waiting for. Y’know what the good ol’ NHS is like, and I’ve just adopted a teenager and … well, a 40-something-year-old teenager. It’s not like we can really afford to go private.
It’s nothing really — this blog. The fight. The money business. He does so much for me that the money thing isn’t even a factor … most of the time. He makes me tea every morning, and he brings me a fresh glass of something cold to drink too. He makes me tea whenever I ask during the day. Well, apart from when he’s got the hump. Even then, he usually still makes it. He does the dishes so I don’t have to. He cooks most of the time. He always takes the garbage out. He even does laundry. He buggers off when I need to make videos. He lets me work … even when I’m working too much. He tries to pull me away from the laptop, but he’s not always successful. You know how I love to NOT listen.
He doesn’t grumble too much when he knows I’m not feeling my best and we don’t have sex for weeks. He massages my back and shoulders when we go to bed at least two or three times a week, and he rubs my head every night once I’ve settled down in his nook. If there’s something I want, he goes out of his way to make sure I get it. That’s why I don’t want to say anything about this money situation. The things he does for me … as bad as we might be sometimes, I still know that I have a very good relationship. He’s a great boyfriend. [Most of the time.] He’s a great dad too. As much as we fight and he can be a real CUNT sometimes, he’s so good to me, and for me. He compliments me every day. He tells me I’m sexy even when I haven’t shaved my bikini line or my legs. He looks at me like I’m sexy, with real lust in his eyes. Like he could devour me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and still have plenty of room for second helpings. He makes me feel good. I’ve never felt as sexy as I do when I’m with him. At the same time, I’ve never felt so unsexy as I have done lately. His bad moods often rub off on me … I know that’s not healthy, but the good still outweighs the bad. So much so.
But, lemme tell you something. Today, he really PISSED ME OFF.
Cheers for readin’, folks. I’ve missed grumbling to you guys! xo