World War III

That is the best way I can think to describe last night. We fought. Hard. I can't even put it into coherent sentences. I can tell you how it started and how it ended, but the middle is a little fuzzy to me now. Probably for the best.

I got back from the library downtown and he met me at the grocery store (he was coming from the bar). We bought food for dinner and came home. He went and cleaned his apartment, and I did my thing in my apartment. After a couple of hours, I went over there to sit with him while he finished cleaning. He took out his pot and smoked some, and I overreacted and left. He came over to my apartment a little while later, got pissed off that I was pissed at him, and left. About fifteen minutes later, when he still wasn't back, I went and knocked on his door. He wasn't home. I called him. I could hear his phone in his apartment, which meant he went somewhere without it. I checked the laundry room and he wasn't there. I figured he must be at the bar. I started getting dressed, the whole time becoming more and more enraged. He did EXACTLY what he said he was going to stop doing the night before--he bailed out, shut down, whatever you want to call it, just because things got uncomfortable.

I started to walk to the bar, getting angrier with each step. I was about halfway there, when I spotted him across the street walking in the opposite direction. I crossed and basically let him have it. When I was finished verbally pummeling him, I walked off by myself to cool off a little bit. A few minutes later, I headed home and was surprised to find him still in my apartment. Things were a bit calmer, but then we started fighting again, and I locked myself in the bathroom. Yes, super mature. But when you have a studio apartment, there really isn't any other room to escape to. I came out about fifteen minutes later, and things were much calmer. Turns out, it was just halftime. We ate dinner and a few minutes later he went home. I went over to his apartment about a half hour later, just to make sure everything was okay.

We got in a HUGE fight. Basically it went like this:

his side: I need to stop picking fights with him. He does care about me. Yes, he has been pushing me away (physically and otherwise), but that is because he is afraid that both of us will get crushed when August ends. I am scaring him lately because I am so emotional. He wanted to have sex with me last night, but when I got mad about the pot I ruined it. I am his best friend and lover, and he just wants me to act like myself because he really enjoys spending time with me. The meltdowns have to stop.

my side: He needs to stop shutting down when we talk about serious things, because that causes my mood to escalate and keeps us from having a reasonable conversation. I am tired of him pushing me away, and if we are going to do what we are doing for the next two months, then we should do it without holding back. I can handle the expiration date, but I can't handle him putting up walls and shutting me out. It will hurt in August either way, so we should make the most of the time we have now. Basically all of my issues come down to me feeling like he only thinks of himself, and always chooses other things over me (including the pot).

After we both said all that we wanted to say, I felt better, and I felt like things were pretty well resolved. I thought wrong. I had just gotten out, "Okay, I will work on what you brought up. Can you work on what I talked about?" when he blew a gasket. I have no idea what set him off. I think he just reached his saturation point, which sucks, because I had just reached the point where I felt good about the conversation and didn't need to talk anymore. I guess I was just a few words too late. He freaked out, and started yelling about how he can't talk anymore, and would see me in the morning, etc, etc. The he went into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. He came out of the bathroom and said, "Are you coming in? But we are NOT talking." I said that it was okay and left. Then, of course, being a firm believer of "You should never go to bed angry," I went back and hugged him. We said we would see each other tomorrow, and went to bed in our respective apartments.

He came in this morning looking for his MP3 player. I was still in bed. We haven't talked at all yet today. He is helping C move this morning, and then working all afternoon. He won't be back until 4 or 5 (assuming he doesn't go to the bar after work).

I honestly don't know what to do with all of that. I am tired of having the same fights all the time too, but it seems like nothing ever changes. I feel like I got it all out of my system though. I just don't know if he is still angry, or if a night of sleep put him back to normal. I don't know if any of our plans for the weekend are still on. Aside from the movie, we were going to go out to dinner, hit an outdoor concert, and maybe go to a big guitar store so he could play some guitars that he cannot currently afford. I guess we will see this evening. I am done fighting though. I don't have anything left to say. I am spent. It is exhausting to do this every day. I really don't enjoy fighting with him--even though he seems to think that I do.

I have to work more on the thesis today. I have to get some books from the library and get organized. I also have to pick up more birth control from the school pharmacy. Some of my moodiness probably has something to do with the fact that I am about three days away from hitting the placebo pills--PMS much? I also have a lot of phone calls to make. It is my grandmother's birthday. I need to call my grandfather for Father's Day (yes, I know I am a few days late), and I want to call my brother, N, to see how work is going. N works for a big Broadway production company, and one of their musicals just won the Tony for best musical. He was at the big Tony after-party for the winning show two nights ago, and I haven't had a chance to talk to him since. I don't get to talk to him nearly as often as I would like to in general. So I will call him today. I also haven't talked to R in awhile, and I miss her.

This is going to sound really strange, but I get really worried if I haven't talked to someone I care about it awhile. I get this feeling like if I don't talk to them soon, and something happens to them, I will regret missing the opportunity to talk to them. I guess it is the same as the "don't go to bed angry" thing. I don't really know why I think that way. I guess it is a little overly morbid. And I don't have any reason to feel so paranoid about it--I have never lost anyone suddenly. I have only lost people who were sick, and who I had time to say goodbye to. I guess I just have always thought like that. I know that bad things happen, and I don't want to leave anything unsaid. I used to write goodbye letters to people I love and hide them in my diary. NOT suicide letters--just letters in case something happened to me unexpectedly. I guess this type of thinking is why I said "I love you" to HIM, even knowing that I would not hear it back. Thinking like this really might be bad for me. I feel like I am always bracing for a disaster. I just can't help it.

So, I will make my phone calls, do my thesis prep, pick up my pills, and hope that he comes home right after work so we can put last night's fight behind us. I am exhausted, but I need to accomplish something today...