Sunday, July 02, 2006

How does he do it?

Every time.
How does he do it over and over again, and forget my reaction, and do it again?
He CALLED ME out to the living room (or whatever the fuck that place with the projector is called) where he is hunkered down (and has been since we got home) playing, yeah, yeah, you guessed it: Warcraft--TO TELL ME HE LOVES ME.
That's it.
No concern for what I may or may not have been working on in my office.
No concern for the train of thought that the children usually destroy that he just destroyed.
No concern for the fact that my body is wrung out and trying to heal itself, but I've been as busy as a bee since we got home and I was FINA-fucking-LY sitting down to write.
And that was kind of cute, it was.
But then he launches into a discussion of "what are we going to do tomorrow?" and suggests that he take the kids to the pool so I can get some things done.
Also, very cute, very kind, etc.
But then he gets sucked back into using his brain for his game and I am left hanging, mid-sentence.
I sit patiently for a few minutes, then ask if we're done.
His glazed-eye voice says, "yeah," lacking inflection, lacking comprehension.
"No, we're NOT," I say, with obvious irritation, as nothing was settled.
"You're right."
More silence, but for the clashing of virtual weapons.
I walk to my office and turn to look at him.
"I am going to be writing, so don't bother me again."

I am such a bitch.
I hate being a bitch.
Do you know that my life revolves around his needs?
His wants?
Do you know that I make choices based on his preference before my own?
Do you know that I hate disappointing him or missing out on one second of time that he wants to spend with me?
Do you know that I love doing things for him, doing things with him?
These things may not surprise you, but I sometimes think they would surprise him.
I don't know.
He has told me before that he already has so much more than he ever expected out of life, that he can't spare a breath for wanting more.
I believe him.
Excelling at work comes naturally to him, so he moves onward and upward.
But all I want is to be adored.
I know I go on and on about all my wishes and dreams and needs on here, but...
the most important part of life to me is to be adored by someone I adore.

I am so sick of work and Warcraft coming ahead of me.
I am so sick of being ignored during times that those two occupiers aren't present.
I am so sick of pretending everything's perfect.
It's not perfect.
Nothing ever is.
Life IS good, it really is.
We communicate well for the most part.
I'm just tired.
And tired of feeling second best.
I should not have to compete with a game.
I knew it was trouble six months ago.
And I've been relatively patient with him, despite what you may think.

I should bury this post.
I should save it as a draft, or hit delete.
I don't know what I'll do with it, but I'll probably post it, since that's what I do here.
I do know that he brings out some really great qualities in me.
And that he provides me with the kind of stability I never dreamed I would have--and I don't mean financially, although that sure doesn't hurt.
I couldn't find my soul mate, so I grew my own.
It's kind of like with cultured pearls, though, something is lost.

Why am I not sitting in a bar on a damp wharf on a muggy-turned-cool night?
Why am I not hurtling through this world doing things my way?
Because I would rather be here.
I am just having one of those days, disregard my angst.
He hasn't even read one of my articles.
You guys care more than he does--
and if that didn't sound as goddamned whiney to you as it did to me, then you ought get your ears checked, or your whine-o-meter tuned.
I just realized that yesterday, though, and it was just another let down.
I can't keep telling him to notice me, to give a shit about me.
He is already caring as much as he can, and he can't even comprehend that there is more to be done.
Don't worry, it's nothing so dire.
I'm ok, he's ok, we're all bloody ok.
I just wanted to sulk.
And I'm hungry, which never helps much of anything.


And why is it that I expect passion from someone without any?
I am so grateful that he is who he is.
I need him to be who he is.

I need to write a story, something disconnected from me, something not real.
I need to stop trying to calm my fears with food.
I grow fatter.
I still love my body, and love it nude.
I still love food and exercise.
but it isn't "healthy" to fill needs with the wrong item.

Just breathe, Lisa.

Story to follow.

update: monday morning
It only got worse.
After I posted, I did some research for my upcoming articles and decided to check out the film festival thing.
The summaries had been posted, but...
not one of them was even remotely based on what I had written.
All that work, all that stress.
I was pretty upset, even though I knew ahead of time that it might happen that way because of the head honcho's proclivity to wanting things his way.
So I was crying as I stepped out of my office and headed for bed.
Hubby asked what was wrong, so I gave him a chance...
I told him, briefly.
He gave a brief response and went silent again, sucked back into his game.
A heartbroken wife somehow did not trump a game.
I went to bed, and considered locking him out.
I didn't, and when he came up 30 minutes or so later, I refused to melt and accept his careless apology like I usually do.
I told him how awful it was when he walked through the kitchen after our first little encounter and began to apologize, but then said, "I gotta go smoke; I don't want to piss off the guys in my group." and he laughed and said, "I knew that was a bad move as soon as I said it."
yeah, funnnny.
I don't know what it's going to take for him to "get" it.
I will not keep spelling it out for him.
I did last night, though.
I told him exactly what the problem is and how his behavior makes me feel.
I told him that he can say he loves me all he wants, but ignoring me (even when the game's off) proves otherwise.
Today I will work out hard and let my tension break up and fall off me in chunks.

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