Blown

I don't like being upset, and even more than that, I don't like fighting. That being said, I think that I prefer fighting over a slow and toxic misery that I refuse to give voice to. So I fought, I guess.

Why?

This past Thursday evening, after a Monday spent on my own even though I work from home on Tuesdays specifically so that I can spend time with someone I care about on Monday evenings, and a Wednesday where that same person didn't even come home, I arranged to meet for a drink after work. I'd selected a location that was not terribly convenient for me, but certainly attainable for the other party, but after making my way up to the neighborhood where we were to meet, was delivered a text informing me that it was too cold to walk to my selected spot, and that this person was at a different spot that, if one were to review a map, could easily be proven to be mere moments closer. I did, at this point, send a less than constructive message of just "Fuck you" which, I realize is not helpful in any way. I made my way to this other location and arrived to find him sitting at the bar with a friend. I reacted badly, for a whole host of reasons, but first and foremost was that I feel like going to this other space was blatantly disrespectful of the plans that has already been established, and to me it seemed obvious that the choice was, at least in part, predicated on the presence of this other individual.

I dislike feeling duped, I dislike feeling taken advantage of. In this moment I felt both of those things. I've felt that way all week. I reacted badly. I know this. But I am happy that I at least reacted. Too often I just go with the flow, and get rolled over on.

I didn't express myself properly, but I'm not sure that even if I had, that it would have mattered. It's not enough to say that you love someone all the time, it's important to actually demonstrate that. I'm more than happy to care for someone, but I expect that care to be returned in kind. I thought that this was a relationship where, yes, while there may be some rough edges, that could happen. Now, I am not so sure. We've not spoken since that night, beyond a very brief text message exchange. I'm not sure when he is coming home, or if it is really "home" that he is coming to anymore. I wish that it was. I very much hope that we can sit down and have an intelligent conversation addressing the past few days. I feel like if there ever was love between us that it should be possible, and that there is recovery from this, but I don't know. The lack of feedback leaves me to my own assumptions, and I've always been one to anticipate the worst.