hildeguardog's Diaryland Diary


Inventory and such.

Back again, this time at a desk in a cubicle facing a wall.
I was dating Christy, but I think we broke up. I haven't talked to her at all today. I've been ignoring her texts under the justification that my phone is almost dead. If we did break up, it's because I can't stand her lack of control when she's drunk. I can only take "fuck you" so many times, regardless of the extent of the apology the next morning. Regardless of whether or not she remembers saying so, or texting so. It's fucking embarrassing to deal with that behavior from a girlfriend when I'm 26 years old. When I'm with my friends. When she didn't have to be there in the first place.
Lucy and I used to fight a lot. That's what I remember most about our relationship, unfortunately. And when I see her I still feel an impending argument just around the corner. And that's what I like about not dating her. It's like my speech teacher from Truman told me: the great thing about having a grandkid is when they crap their pants, you can hand them back to the parents. That's the distance that I often miss when I'm in a relationship. I can't just walk away when things get bad.
But I haven't walked away yet. I didn't walk away when Christy got weird at Brian's birthday party at we had to leave abruptly. I didn't walk away when she up and left while we were hanging out at Libby's house having a few beers (she was under the impression we were going to a bar but we ended up hanging out in an apartment. But that wasn't for her to decide. We--being me, Brian, Libby, and Annie--made plans to hang out, and Christy wanted to tag along. So who's she to get upset that we didn't do what she wanted to do?). I didn't leave when she hid in Megann's bedroom during the Thanksgiving party. Or later that night when she insisted on driving us home, and admitting in the morning that she assumed I had driven because she had blacked out.
I'm sick of this shit. I understand that relationships take "work" and aren't necessarily all fun and games and smooching and cuddling. But this feels like a lack of respect. Libby says she wouldn't be caught dead making these kinds of scenes in front of Zach's friends. Because it's awkward an embarrassing, and that kind of dirty laundry shouldn't be aired in public.
Christy and I had--after some similar incident--that if she had a problem when we were out with people, she could tell me and we'd deal with it later. Sober. When emotions are easier to control and when insight into the situation is clearer. And that worked, once or twice. She got upset at Cunneen's one night because Erik said something that offended her being (though he did so naively). She said she was upset and we talked about it in the morning. And it was fine, I thought.
So what's the deal?
I drove to Arlington Heights in her car this morning, as I often do on days that I work. We hadn't spoken since she stormed off at the Doubledoor last night. We didn't speak on the drive home from the show, we didn't speak when she came to bed after initially trying to sleep on a chair in my living room, and we didn't speak most of the car ride to the suburbs. Until we exited I-90 and were waiting at the redlight at the end of the offramp.
"I think I have a problem," she said. "With alcohol. Not that I crave it when I'm sober, but I can't control how much I drink when I'm out socializing. I don't want to be seen as a downer." Something like that.
Unfortunately (or maybe just circumstantially)for our relationship, I can't be with someone who can't handle themselves when they're drinking. When Tiki gets drunk and belligerent, I walk away. And if I don't want to deal with him, I don't talk to him for a few weeks or months. No big deal. The unfortunate/circumstantial part is that drinking is a part of my life. When I have dinner with my mom, we have a few beers. When I hang out with a brother, we have a few beers. When I go out with friends, we have a few beers. I'm in my 20s, alcohol has never seemed to profoundly affect school or work or relationships (well, except this one, apparently, but I don't think it's my drinking that's the problem because I drink to have fun. The most emotional/off-beat thing I'll do when I'm drunk is admit to having a crush on some girl, though I'd never do that to Christy because it'd be rude and unnecessary. And when it's to other people, it's generally an innocent I'm-totally-in-love-with-the-cute-girl-at-the-coffee-shop kind of thing).
So what's a boy to do? I'm not going to quit drinking because it's not a problem for me.
I like Christy a lot. I like spending time with her, and talking with her, and sleeping with/next to her. But where do I draw the line? Is this a good place? If I said "fuck you" to Christy (or any girl I happened to be dating) even once, I'd expect to be sent packing. It's rude and mean and if it's sincere it's most appropriate as a parting shot.
But am I overreacting? Libby and Annie say no. I believe that offensive language is derived from tone and context. If I was playing MarioKart with Matsuo and he said "fuck you" after I saved a first place-killer to ensure he didn't win, the tone would be mock-incredulous and the context would be in a game. Every time Christy has said "fuck you" to me, it's been during a time when she's upset, ostensibly because things aren't going her way. And the way she says or (or even texts it) feels so sincere. Like there's nothing more pressing she's ever wanted to tell me.
She was rubbing my arm most of the car ride this morning and I'd wished she'd stop. But I didn't say anything. Just as I haven't told her to turn down the fucking Amanda Palmer when I'm driving because I've heard those songs so many times and the stereo in the Jeep can't handle bass or treble to well which makes it grating to my ears. But I didn't say anything. Just like I didn't say anything when I was driving and the heat was blasting in my eyes. I just turned it down. And shortly after she turned it back up. But I didn't say anything. Because I rarely say anything. I don't really stick up for what I want because I find it easier to let other people do what they want. I find people and situations I enjoy without having to adjust the actual people. I adjust who it is I'm hanging out with, instead of adjusting the people or situation. (that got redundant but I wasn't sure how to articulate it clearly. Maybe this: I would rather adjust my place in the world than adjust the world. Better?) But that's not really fair to other people, is it? People get attached to one another. All the time. Not all people, but the attachment thing is quite commonplace. If I'm hanging out with someone I really like and then they stop hanging out with me because of some quirk or pattern of mine they've noticed, are they obligated to tell me my fault? My reasoning is that it's not a fault, but just something I don't prefer. If I was a racist and told someone after a while that I didn't like them because of their skin color, that'd be rude as hell. If someone didn't like me because of my white skin or because sometimes I smoke cigarettes or because I generally have a very low opinion of how the world works, I don't know that I'd find it necessary for that person to explain what they don't like about me. It's not like I'm going to make sweeping changes to assuage another person if I wasn't entirely convinced my actions were faults or liabilities.
This circumstance has me sick. Or maybe I'm hungover. Hard to tell. But I've barely eaten anything today. A bottle of Kefir and two kabanos. I'm working on a can of La Croix and a Kind bar, but those have been open and in front of me for the past hour and a half.
It's not that I never want to see Christy again. Like I said, I enjoy her company and her affection. But we can't exactly revert to a friendship. As this incident is one in a line of incidents, I don't know that I can forgive and forget because I'll be walking on proverbial eggshells every time we go out.
It's New Year's Eve tonight. I bought us tickets to see Masked Intruder at the Beat Kitchen. Not the coolest NYE plans in the world, but they're a fun band and it's something to do. But what do I do? Go with Christy and hope for the best? Go without her and feel alone in a crowd? Stay home and feel sorry for myself? Do something else? Nothing sounds appealing, really.
As I used to do around New Year's, I took inventory. It's been difficult the past couple years because I've been of age to legally drink and I've been in Chicago, whereas before I was under 21 and in Florida. I wrote it in second person for some reason, and got side-tracked when I brought up my relationship with Christy. I'll post it at the end of the entry.
I don't know how I feel, or how I should feel, or if there's even a proper way to feel right now. I wish I wasn't feeling any of this. I wish Christy only drank the two beers she'd planned on drinking instead of deciding everyone should do a shot of tequila. I wish it wasn't fucking New Year's eve (in part because the anxiety preceding holidays often outweighs the fun).
I wish I could use advice, but I can't really imagine any that would do much for me. And none that I haven't already heard or told myself already. I'm going to go read Wild and pretend I'm in the mountains finding my soul or whatever.
Here's that inventory:
Dear Scott,

I'm not sure if you know this, but you're still young. Twenty-six years young. You go out of your way reminding other, older people that they're still young, yet you compartmentalize like there's no margin for error. Is that right? Is that what you do? Maybe not. But we should take inventory.

You're 26.

You're smoking cigarettes. You bought a pack the weekend before Riot Fest, but didn't smoke any until the next Sunday, while watching Social Distortion. You were with Woj and Max and you told Woj how the first cigarette after a year made you feel like you were flying. But you knew better. You'd been practicing quitting for years, and you had read Alan Carr's book, but you went back anyway. That was three and a half months ago. You smoked five last night, and now you're out. You'd like to go all of 2015 without a cigarette, but you can't decide how seriously you feel about that, and whether you'll care once the new year rings in. You know that quitting takes unbridled dedication, and that half-assing it always ends in failure. So let me know how that goes.

You try to run sometimes but keep hurting yourself. Your knee seems to be fine now (after that suspected sheath tear that happened valeting in April), but your big right toe doesn't bend (and hasn't since you were twenty three and living in Denver, at least) and the joint gets sore after a few miles. You should probably get that checked out. Every year you have a mild fantasy about running the marathon. This year is no different. Why is that? Will that make you feel more accomplished? Perhaps. Will other people think more of you? Maybe. Is it necessary to pay to run the marathon, or are you just as well off by running it on your own time, should you choose to go through with this?

You're dating Christy--or, you were; we'll see what happens after last night. Last night: Laura Jane Grace at the Doubledoor. You two were fooling around before the show. Told Woj you'd be at Estelle's at 7. at 6:15, Christy abruptly stops and turns away--whatever fun was being had is now over. It takes fifteen minutes for you to coax the matter out of her. She was embarrassed by something she asked you to do. You tell her it's okay, and eventually finish messing around. By the time you both shower and are out the door, it's after 7. You get to Estelle's in her Jeep because your Cabrio died in November (while she was driving it to work). Her tank is full of gas you bought. Christy has no cash because she was out of work for a week and a half. You buy her drinks at the bar. You bought her ticket to the show (in exchange for her buying tickets to some other show). The evening is going fine. She gets along swimmingly with Max's friend Sidney. Then at the Doubledoor, she isn't feeling well. She goes to the bathroom, doesn't come back. You text her and she says she's where you all were. But that doesn't make sense because that's where you are. She comes back. After a while, it is apparent she isn't feeling well. You put your arms around her while she stands in front of you. You ask if she'd like to leave, she says no. You ask later, she says she doesn't care. Out of nowhere, she removes your hands from around her. Then she walks away. Soon after, she texts you saying you ditched her. This is absurd, you think. Later, she says, "I'ma dip ... see ya." Later yet, "fine, fuck you." Eventually, you get her to your apartment. She sleeps in the living room. You pack her things and put them next to the chair she is curled up in. Sometime in the night, she awakens and lays next to you. You keep your distanc You have set your alarms for 5:30 in preparation to take the bus/train to work. But it's a bus/bus/train/bus and the whole commute takes about two hours. You wake up to your alarms but decide against such a dramatic gesture when Christy will be heading that way anyway. You manage to be forty-five minutes late to work. As usual. When your off the highway and about three minutes from work, Christy breaks the silence that had become quite comfortable over the course of the ride. She says she think she has a problem with alcohol. You don't say anything. Half an hour into working she texts you saying, "I'm scared. I don't want to lose you." You don't know if you feel the same way.

Christy wants to live with you. Christy is 23. It could be that she has convinced you and herself that is she more mature than she actually is. You are her first real boyfriend (though you refuse to title yourself as such). She's highly intelligent but emotionally immature.

4:08 p.m. - Wednesday, Dec. 31, 2014


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