"My boyfriend is so needy. Always demanding things like, 'Untie me' and 'Just tell me who you are'."

Well it was another fantastic weekend in the relationship roller coaster ride that is now my life.

So, when Chris feels hurt, for whatever slight he perceives, he lashes out at me by calling me a certain word that I won't repeat here.  It's a word that is degrading to all women.  It is a word I would use to describe myself, though I would laugh as I said it because, come on, it's me and I think it's funny.  When it comes out of his mouth, he means to hurt me.  He means to wound me.  He means to tear me down, make me angry, make me cry, whatever.

But, because a friend of mine suggested I look into this: Narcissistic Personality Disorder, I was more aware of who I was dealing with.

And then I read this: 8 Ways to Handle a Narcissist and found a way to defuse my anger.  I was reminded of this:  "You do not have to attend every argument you're invited to".  Damn right.

So, when he called me that name, I simply gave him a small smile, turned and walked away.  I did not respond to it.  I did not feed into it.  I just walked away.

And then he walked away....all the way to his house (which I was unaware of....who knew where he went?) and while he was away, I went away as well.  I called a friend, we sat and talked about how I don't know who the hell I am any more...because aren't I a 3-strikes-you're-out kind of woman?  Yes, yes I am...and yet....and yet....here I am, dealing with this mean, spiteful put-down for the fourth, fifth, sixth(?) time.  How have I allowed this to continue to happen?

Because I'm in love.

But why (how) can I love someone who is mean and disrespectful and hurtful and, well, a little bit crazy?

I don't know.  I really, really don't.  I love him because he's funny and I'm (mostly) happy with him and I think we can be a great couple and have an amazing life...if we can just let the craziness go and enjoy each other.

He eventually came home, saw I wasn't there, called me incessantly, accused me of I-don't-know-what; being with someone else. How does the man I've lived with for over 2 months, day-in-and-day-out, not know me at all?  Because he's insecure and scared and mostly insecure...and well, he is a narcissist.  It really is all about him and I'm just a bit part in his life.

I have to decide if I can live with that.  So far, I can, but you know the psychological phrase, self-fulfilling prophecy?  If I hear often enough that I'm this or that, I may just start to believe it.  So far, I don't and think he's utterly ridiculous....but if it keeps up, I just may start to think..."yep, he's right.  I'm a bigger piece of shit than I thought I was..."

He, of course, was contrite when I came home...full of love and loving words and promises and, and, and.  Actions speak louder than words.  We'll see.  We'll just see.

What I want to know is....Where the hell is my make-up jewelry?  I want flowers! Chocolates! Diamonds! A card! Something! Anything!  But oh, no, wait, I forgot, it's not about me....

"I'm sorry I'm not clingy and attached. I have this rare disorder called self-esteem and the side effects are not giving a crap."

Goddamn.

Friday night at dinner he said something about "we" need to start working out this week and stupid me said, "Honey, I already started working out again last week" and he looked at me like, "WTF? You didn't tell me?"  I said, "You didn't ask", "I told you I was going to change...I've lowered my expectations".

You can just about imagine how that went....and rightfully so, right?  Who wants to hear that their significant other lowered their expectations of them.  Not me, I can tell you.  How rude.

When we got home that night and the next morning, he was still acting pissy so I called him on it.  "Tell me what's wrong."  I had hurt his feelings.

Of course I had.

Then I had to go do this....

Where is that damn monkey?

Here he is! (Dad's the monkey, lol)

I'm pretty good at squashing my feelings and getting the job done.  But damn....How stupid do I look?  Thankfully it was only for an hour Saturday morning (because Chris' mom was supposed to be coming to Walnut to visit, but he told her we were fighting and not to come....So much to say about that, but I'll refrain).  

When I got home, I cut back some flowers outside while he did....what? I don't remember, but I only went outside to do that because he was doing something inside and I'm sick & tired of not getting shit done around this house because I'm just swooning over him nonstop.  Ridiculous.

I got back inside and we laid in bed where he proceeded to talk for two hours.  TWO FUCKING HOURS. I had only eaten one apple fritter all day.  I was hungry. I was tired.  He talked from Noon to 2PM.  Not kidding.  Two straight hours.  

What about, you ask?  

Well, what I heard and what he thinks he said are still up for debate, but here's what I got out of it.  

I'm a piece of shit.

• I'm coarse.  
• He's unhappy A LOT.  
• I don't make him feel special (Apparently, he's just a notch on my bedpost.  I don't even have a bedpost, lol!).  
• I was faking my love for him because I wanted to love someone and I figured it would eventually happen with him.  This one about made me laugh.  I corrected him...quickly.  "You think I wanted this? I did not want this.  I did not want to fall in love.  I was perfectly happy the way I was.  I never expected to fall in love and have you move in with me and be talking about marriage and a future.  Never."  Actually what I said was, "You don't know me at all...." 
• I wanted him to move here as a matter of convenience. 
• I'm difficult. 
• I have multiple personalities.  

Are you laughing?  How could you not, really, because it's all so damn ridiculous.

Coarse?  I'll fucking show you coarse.

Yeah, right.

I cried.  I basically cried for two hours.  And then he was all lovey dovey, all over me, giving me attention, being unreasonably happy.  Happy.  That I had cried for two hours?  I don't even know, but I was glad he wasn't ripping into me anymore and we weren't fighting because I was too damn tired to fight.

That night (after I demanded food and a nap), I started to tell him, "I feel like...." to which he responded, "A prize fighter who got the shit beat out of him but still won?!"  Ummmm, no, not at all.  

I felt like a wild stallion who he had corralled and who was perfectly happy until he wanted to ride me and then I thought, Fuck that shit, and bucked and fought so he broke me the hardest way he knew how and that was to cut me to my core by feeding me the same shit I've told myself about myself for the last 41 years.  He broke me.  Hard.  And meanly.  But he still broke me and Saturday night I told him I was still processing everything he said (two hours, remember) but that he had worn me down and I still loved him.

But then today happened and damn if I don't live with a child.  A mean, spiteful child.

We had gone to get groceries early this morning and on the way back, I was still processing the day before and told him so.  I asked him,  "I still can't understand why you love me?  Why did you move to Walnut?  You broke me down, but you didn't build me back up, did you?  What are my redeeming qualities?  I must have some if you love me and live with me.  Why else would you do all this?  If I'm so awful, why do you love me?"

Which put HIM in a bad mood.  HIM!  W. T. F. 

We got home, he was still moody and yet again, I was not when I was the one who should have been, goddammit, so he went into the bedroom and laid down.  "What are you doing?"  "I thought I'd lay down for an hour before work."  

Oooookay.  So I'm going to get shit done while you lay there.  

I went outside and painted my South porch railing (second coat), scraped 1/2 of my front porch railing and applied a first coat.  I wasn't really thinking about anything.  I was just listening to my music, enjoying the weather and feeling pretty good about accomplishing one of the damn things I wanted to this weekend.  And then I came inside because I thought, "It's got to be Noon, right?" and it was quarter after and he had left.  Without saying a goddamn word.

My text was, "What the fuck?"

A child.  I live with a mean, spiteful child.  How can this person say they love me when they try to hurt me because they're hurting....for some made-up fucking reason, too?  What does he have to be hurt about?  I'M THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE HURT!

"Women are not moody! We simply have days when we are less inclined to put up with your bullshit!"

*sigh*

Ain't that the truth?

I can only "be all about you" for so long.  When does it become about us instead of about you?

That's how my week has gone.  I slept like shit Monday night.  I have a yeast infection that's driving me mad.  I had horrible, horrible nightmares that left me feeling ultra shitty every time I woke up, which was almost every damn hour.  My back hurt. My head hurt. My vag hurt. Everything hurt and man, I was tired.  You know how I get when I'm tired, right?

I tried to get my head right.  I almost did.  But then Chris was grumpy and didn't get out of bed and I'm pretty sure I gave him the bird as I walked into the kitchen.

Yep, exactly like that.

So I left for work early because I knew if I stuck around, I would unleash my inner bitch and once she's out, she's hard to contain.  It takes a straight-jacket.

So, yeah, then I got stubborn as hell because whenever I'm upset, it's (of course) about him.  It's always about him.

I think he does.

All I wanted was simple:  Read my mood and comfort me.

*eye roll*

I know, I know.  A man reading a woman's mood is like.......nothing.  Nothing - because I'm pretty sure it's never happened.  Never.

Really, though, would it have been so hard to say, "What's wrong, honey?  Is there anything I can do to make it better?  Do you need a hug?"

Yes, goddammit, hug me!

I get it.  It would be a big risk to hug me when I'm in that kind of mood.  You've got to be a pretty goddamn strong man to venture into my inner bubble when I'm like that.  But that's exactly what I want.  A man strong enough to stand up to me, tell me I'm being a bitch, take me into his arms and tell me everything's going to be all right.

Does this person exist?  Naw.  Only in my dreams.

So then it became....more.  Stupid.  More.  I raised my voice at him yesterday, saying, "How is this about you again? How do you do that?!?" because, honestly, it wasn't so much about him as it was about me needing to find my mojo again....my happy place....my zen, but there he was, pouting like a toddler, making it all about him and I was like....

That's unfair.  It's not all about him all of the time....but I'm doing a bit of an experiment.  I haven't spoken about myself once today to him.  Let's see how long it takes him to realize that.  I bet I could go a whole lifetime without him realizing that he doesn't know a goddamn thing about me.  How hurtful would that be?  To me, obviously, but also to him...think about what he would be missing out on!  All of this!  I can't deprive him of that, can I?  But I'll continue this little experiment for, oh, a week, and see how it goes.

I'll tell you how - I'm going to be one raging pissed off bitch a week from now.

"Today I am wearing a lovely shade of "I slept like crap so don't piss me off"."

Short and sweet and to the point.

We had a great weekend.  Fantastic.  One of the best ones yet....and I know there are more to come.

We spent Friday-- I was off because he was supposed to start playing in a tennis tournament that day, but his first game wasn't until Saturday morning.  Like I was going to go into work when I had already planned to take the day off.  Pshaw, yeah, right. -- So, we spent Friday shopping.  For him.  It was delightful.  We came home, napped hard and then did our grocery shopping.  It was a perfect day.

Saturday was his tennis tournament and while he lost both games, it was still a good day.  Mom and Dad came, too, and that made it more special.  I know he was pleased and felt loved because they made the effort.  It's the little things....

Sunday, he went back to work but our morning was good.

And then....

Guess this isn't true, huh?

I could tell I had a yeast infection.

*sigh*

I'm more than a bit surprised that I haven't had one sooner.

I went to see my doctor today and she asked me, "Are you having a lot of sex?" to which I laughed like a psychopath.  She smiled and said "We have a term for that.  It's called honeymoonitis."  Probably not a good sign they have a term for it, lol.  I'm on a regimen of antibiotics and we're off sex for a few days.  We haven't gone more than 2 without sex.

This will be the true test.

"I entered "Bitch" into my GPS and guess what... I'm in your driveway."

My cousin, Emily, can track her husband on her phone.  "Oh, 15th & Hansen....He's at Hyvee."

Is this a good idea or a bad idea?

He, presumably, can track her, too, so at least it isn't one-way.  But.....

I just think it's probably good that GPS doesn't track you to the foot.  Like, "Bathroom - Toilet".  "She's been on the toilet for 30 minutes!  I better go check on her."

Don't.  Just don't.

"Remember, as far as anyone knows, we are a nice normal family."

It's been a fun-filled family weekend.

First, Chris & I drove to M'town to see grandma, Aunt Bev, Emily and her family.  We visited with Grandma for two hours, sitting in her closed-in-heat-filled-sauna-of-a-house.  She's sitting there in a long-sleeved turtleneck and slacks and we're both stripping down to our underwear.  It was a great visit.  This is the best she's seemed in two years.  She was in a good mood.  Her back was still in pain, but she stood upright the most I've seen her do these past couple of years.  It was a great visit.

When we left, I said to Chris, "Take a good hard look because that's what I'm going to be in 20 years."  Grandma's 88.  How the hell she's lived this long, I don't know.  What I do know is I won't make it to 88.  I'll be lucky to make it to 60, so if I'm going to start channeling Grandma, I better start now.

"Forget the dust!  There will always be dust!  Don't even try!"
"I never chased after men.  I didn't have to.  No man likes to be chased.  They should chase you."
"I don't do anything.  I sit in that chair and watch my neighbors.  It's a very exciting life."

Her next present should be binoculars.

Then we headed over to Aunt Bev's to visit with everyone there and it was like a breath of fresh air after being suffocated in Grandma's house for two hours.  We were loud.  We were crude.  We were mean.  We were funny.  We ate.  We christened Chris at Spoons...and he survived and even wants more.  I told him we need to practice every weekend until Thanksgiving because, of course, I lost to Emily.  I have a reputation to maintain (I won one year and they all think I'm some master at it...ONE TIME. Others have won more....) I would like to win the title back.  It's shameful I've lost so many times...

We weren't really in a good place on the way up there.  I think the night before I was trying to have a serious discussion with him and he kept making smart-ass comments so I said, "Stop being a dick" and that was that.  At least I shut down the smart-ass comments, however, I also shut down his good mood.  I guess being called a dick is a bad thing?  Who knew?  :)  So I was trying to stay upbeat the whole way there but he wanted to have a deep discussion while I was driving through Des Moines and I thought, "This is not the time".  Honestly, I'd be hard-pressed to tell you what we talked about.  I for-sure have Alzheimer's.  Then, on the way home, I was beat and sad (I'm always a little sad when I leave M'town) so I stayed quiet and he tried to stay awake driving.  When we got home, we were both in better places and had a great rest of the weekend.

Saturday night I found out my Uncle Marvin and Aunt Julie (dad's brother & wife) were only 5 miles away and I thought, "uh-uh, no way are they that close and I'm not going to get to see them" so I Facebooked Marvin and they came over Sunday morning for a short visit before heading further South.  I told Chris, "Yesterday you met the crazy side of my family.  Today you get to meet the sane ones."  It was a great visit and fun to reminisce with Marvin and Julie.

After all of the family get together's, Chris said, "Pretty soon, everybody I met this weekend is going to know me as your husband."  to which I think, "Yeah, right, we'll see."  I'm happy.  I'm mostly content.  Sure, I want to marry this man, but I don't expect anything to happen soon.  He says he wants to sell his house first and so I know....I'm not going to be "married Amy" any time soon.  I'm okay with that....for the time being.... because things are good and we're happy and we're finding our groove and while I still think something tragic is going to befall either one of us and so I don't want to wait....Wait, I will, because he's worth waiting for.