It’s funny, the little things that get misinterpreted in a relationship. A hastily scribbled note, for example, or a text message from someone who wants to send you samples of stuff to try and review. Both of these things have wreaked havoc in my relationship over the last few days, and I feel it’s about time I talked about it.
We lost the Apple TV remote. That’s how it all started. In fact, that’s not how it all started. It all started when a guy got in touch to send me some stuff to review. I reviewed it, and he said thanks. It wasn’t a great review, but he appreciated my honesty. And then he sent a kiss.
Okay, that’s not even how it started either. Fucking hell. Let’s go right back to the beginning …
Someone sent me a message on Twitter asking if I could try some stuff and let them know what I thought. (Not sex related, sorry.) I said yes. That person said their name was one thing, and I presumed it was a woman. That person then complimented the way I looked, and said that they were nervous about my review. They wanted me to like their stuff. In fact, they piled the compliments on.
It wasn’t until some time later that I investigated this person on social media [translation: stalked] and realised it was a dude, not a chick. It was a nickname that he’d given me, not his real name. The female-sounding nickname was also on Facebook, just for the record. It’s not like a name he only gave to me. All of a sudden, the compliments he’d given me earlier seemed a little inappropriate though. I don’t know why they would have been okay from a girl and not a guy, but that’s just how I felt. The name he’d given me had suggested he was a girl, and the way he’d spoken to me made me believe he was a girl, but then when I stalked and realised he was a married guy, things just felt a little weird. I’m pretty sure these were the words I said to Bear:
“Oh, I feel like I’ve been duped! I genuinely believed that was a girl! If I’d have known that was a guy, I would have said that was flirting for sure.”
I probably shouldn’t have said that, in hindsight. But, you know me. The words just fall right out of my mouth because I’m a fucking idiot. I live with Bear now. He’s starting to appreciate that side of me. Appreciate is probably the wrong word …
Anyway, there was a bad review, and then a better review, and then he [the girl that was actually a guy] sent me a message saying thanks, and that message had a kiss on the end of it. And then there was invitation to an event. The invitation was for me and Bear, but the first thing that came out of Bear’s mouth was this:
“Well, the invitation might be for you and me, but you know when we both turn up, only one of us can get in for one reason or another, and he’s going to be all over you like a rash. Even you said he was getting flirty.”
Right, well that’s not quite what I said, is it? But fine, whatever. I dug my own grave as far as the flirting comment was concerned, so I took that one on the chin. Invitation politely declined, bullshit excuse given, I didn’t hear from him again. Well, until a couple of days later when he told me he was going to send me more stuff to review. And then he sent me his phone number … about that invitation. It’s still for both Bear and I, just so you know. And no, I haven’t contacted him. I didn’t even save his number.
Long story short (not that I’ve done that so far), Bear is pissed and now utterly convinced this guy wants to have sex with me. I’m resentful that I don’t get to accept the invitation. We’re fighting. Fighting is the wrong word. We’re two stroppy teenagers that are fine with each other one minute, slamming doors and shouting, “Oh, fuck off!” the next, and then back to hardcore making out again on the couch, twenty minutes after that. I lied about the last part. There’s been no hardcore making out for a while now. I should probably let him have some tonight. I’m back to not knowing where my libido has gone once again.
But the kiss at the end of the text message – it’s wreaked havoc. Bear is walking around like a … well, like a bear with a sore head. And then he found this hastily scribbled note under the bed …
We’d lost the Apple TV remote. It’s this stupid little silver thing, and we always lose it. Especially with my kingsize duvet over his double bed. There’s too much duvet. We’re always losing stuff in it. He was crawling under the bed, looking for the remote, and he happened to come across a little piece of paper which had obviously fallen out of one of my notepads. It was clearly a note written in the midst of a blog-frenzy, because it simply said:
“The big reveal. Bear. It’s all true. But was he my happy ending?”
Somehow, in some way, Bear’s twisted mind had turned that into me not thinking he was right for me. He was convinced that’s what I was writing down. That we weren’t right for each other. That I was going to do this big reveal to him, showing that we weren’t compatible with each other as I was walking out the door … or something like that anyway.
He was still in angry Bear mode after the whole review-dude-girl-thing, and his mind was twisting and turning things, just like it always does. The piece of paper was actually an idea for the NaNoWriMo thing, and something I never got around to actually starting, let along finishing. It was just a book story. That’s all. That hastily scribbled note though … The things it did to Bear’s mind. Wow. That’s all I can say about that.
We’re always misinterpreting things though. He’ll be mock-mad and I think he’s real mad and then I get annoyed and he laughs and … You get the gist. It’s a bloody nightmare sometimes. We seem to be a little out of sync right now too. I can’t get my sex-on, mostly because I’m working 17 hours a day, and he’s feeling mischievous and playful because he’s a frustrated little bunny. I don’t get always get the jokes, stuck with my head in laptop-land 99% of the time, and mostly I’m just pissed off with him. I feel for him, I really do, but at some point he needs to start rationalising these crazy thoughts. And behaving himself when I’m trying to work. I know he can’t help it because he’s nuts and all, but c’mon. He actually thought I was messaging the review-girl-guy one morning and got angry with me over nothing. I was actually posting to this blog’s Instagram account at the time. It’s all in his head, honestly. If it weren’t happening to us, it would be quite funny.
Dating a paranoid schizophrenic – not quite as easy as I thought it was going to be. Go figure.
But we’re getting there, still. I’m still not mad enough at him to throw in the towel, and I actually think we might just be falling a little deeper in love with each other. I know I am with him. And we’re both getting fat too. We’ve both put on weight. I’m actually starting to get a little concerned. I threw on some size ten jeans with leg splits the other day, and they were so tight on me, I split the leg-split even further. All I did was sit down … Shit. I should work on this. Like, right now. I’ve gained a boyfriend and ten pounds. Someone pry the Easter eggs from my hubby little hands right now.
No, please don’t. I’ve only got one left. I’ll eat that one now and then it’ll be problem solved! I’m a genius!
How are you lot? I’ve been Twitter-neglectful recently and I’m not up to date with blogs. Send me your latest in the comments below. Show me what I’m missing while I’m working my ass off and neglecting my boyfriend.
K, thanks! xo