I woke Loverman up at 1:30 Sunday afternoon and told him that we needed to check out in 30 minutes. He was still sleeping in that fucking corner chair and wearing the same shit he had on the entire time we spent together – I don’t think he even used the bathroom once when we were in that room. Except to walk around in the dark of it Saturday morning.
At first, it seemed like Sunday he actually wanted to be a decent human being to me. His voice wasn’t as monotone and he was saying more to me than just “Nope. I’m good.”
But like I said, I was ‘wore out’ with his bullshit at this point. I was feeling totally rejected and like I had tried enough over the last 30 hours – pretty much untiringly.
Regardless, I knew that we had to spend another 10 hours driving in a car together – talk about the Vacation from Hell! – so, I really did try not to make the drive miserable.
The first half of the trip, while I was driving, went okay. I wasn’t feeling tired but I was having some serious hot flashes that were driving me crazy. I told Loverman about it briefly so he would understand what the fuck was wrong with me and why I kept taking off my jacket just to put it back on again in 5 minutes and messing with the heat.
The first conversation I had with him, when we were out of the city was:
“When you go places and you are the only black man there, do you ever feel tension or unwelcome or uncomfortable?”
“You’re really lucky. Because I totally felt like that last night. Completely like I didn’t belong and that I wasn’t welcome. During the slow skate, people kept running into me – that was the only time it happened all night long. And everything was totally fine on Friday night when you were skating with me. It felt weird. Bad. It didn’t help that I felt so isolated from you, too.”
“They were running into everyone,” was all he said in response. Not even I’m sorry that you felt like that or Why didn’t you say something about it earlier?
That was a LOT shorter discussion than I had anticipated and we sat there in silence until I thought of something else to talk about.
I remembered that I thought of a skate team name for us while I was trying to sleep that morning so, I brought that up:
“Oh!” I said. “I thought of a cool skate team name for us to use. But, it doesn’t really work as well since you’re not coming on any more sk8-ventures with me.”
“What’s the team name?” He asked.
“The 303,” I answered.
“That’s a good name. How did you think of that?”
“I couldn’t sleep this morning and it just popped into my head. Don’t you want to tell me that the name is silly?”
“No, <mama>. I really like that name. It’s a good idea because it represents where we’re from.”
“It’s unfortunate that you won’t be coming on any more skate trips because it’s a play on numbers, too. It would be even cooler if all 3 of us wore it together.” (me, Loverman and Thing #1) I continued, “She and me are the curvy 3’s on the outside and we could make a narrower zero for you in the middle because you are skinny and not curvy!”
“No. You and Thing #1 could still wear the shirts together. It would still make sense,” was his response.
“Yeah, partly. But it would suck to have to explain all the time about our cool logo when our third team member doesn’t travel with us,” I said. “I thought it also would be cool to put CO in the middle of our back on a jersey like it was our number and put our skate names up at the top.”
“We don’t have skate names,” he said. (spoil sport!)
“Well, we could think of them.”
Then, HE started talking about hosting our OWN skate party in Colorado!
?????? ?????? ????????
After making me promise that I would never ask him to go to another one with me, now he wants to set up his own!!!!! ???????
That’s not going to happen because I sure as fuck am not planning anything else with him for a long time. Especially not a giant skate party! He needs to learn how to stick to any type of plan before he sets up something that huge!
I listened to him talk about it. He seemed happy, so I let him go on.
When there was a lull, I put in Hall & Oates Greatest Hits. I told Loverman that I brought it thinking we could sing some of the songs together and have fun. “I actually put a lot of thought into going on this road trip with you.” We sang a little, but it wasn’t what I would really call ‘fun’.
We even had a few benign conversations where I didn’t say passive-aggressive things.
Things went downhill when we switched over and he started to drive. I no longer had something to occupy any of my mind so it started to wander off into all the crappy ways Loverman had treated me over the past 24+ hours. Also, I was tired and hungover from drinking that bottle of tequila and hungry but I had no appetite.
Loverman asked me if I wanted to stop to get something to eat. I told him, “I brought a ton of healthy travel food to eat if I get hungry. But, to be honest, I really don’t have much of an appetite. I will just drink my water and let you know when I need to stretch my legs. If you’re hungry, let’s stop and get something, though. You should stop and eat. You haven’t eaten barely anything since we got here and now you are driving us, in the dark, the rest of the way home.”
It was only 7PM, but we had been driving in the dark for what seemed like hours.
“If you’re not hungry, we won’t stop,” he replied.
“Okay. If that’s how you want it. I can’t make you care about yourself if you don’t want to.”
After I said that, he stopped at McDonald’s and got dinner. We drove in uncomfortable silence for a very long time after that.
Eventually I told Loverman that I needed to discuss with him this new boundary-line he had created in our relationship. I wanted to respect his space and what he wanted, but I needed to know what that is.
I asked, “Do you want me to still text you every day when I get to work safe and when I get home safe?”
“Sure. If you want to,” he answered.
“Well, I have been doing it this entire time because you wanted me to. I need to know if you want that to continue. If you don’t care, then I am not going to keep bothering you with it.”
“You’re not bothering me with it,” he answered,
We had that same exact conversation 3 times in a row. I still don’t fucking know what he wants.
He told me that we will be ending our ‘friends with benefits’ agreement because he needs “to get over this. You know it takes me a while to get over stuff like this.” (Stuff like what?!?! You going completely off your rocker for an entire vacation?!?!)
I told him something about how much I love him and how I am trying to make this relationship work with him, but if *he* doesn’t want to try and make things work with me I would have a hard time just being friends with him like he suggested before.
I mentioned that it was a little insulting for him to call me his ‘friend with benefits’ after everything I have done for him and how awesome we are together. We
arewere so much more than that to me. I thinkthought of us like partners or lovers or intimate friends, it’s so much deeper than friends with benefits to me.
“Well, if you don’t want to call it ‘friends with benefits’, we can just call it what it is then: CHEATING!” He flippantly added, “I get it. Some girls just can’t be friends with a guy after the benefits are over.”
Ouch! Burn! What an asshole!
(Where did that CHEATING thing come from? Of course that’s what we’re doing, he’s never said it like that before… If that was the problem the entire time, why didn’t he just tell me so we could talk about it — instead of pushing me away the entire time?? We’ve been together 6 years, why couldn’t he just talk to me about it?)
He put his I-Pod music on the stereo after that and it played love song after love song. It was worse than torture and I said in passing, “You know, you never really realize how many songs are about love and heartache until your heart is laying on the floor, broken in front of you.”
He said nothing, but switched to another song, and then another one, and another. Every fucking song is about love when you don’t want it to be…
I asked him if I could please use his headphones to block out the music so, if he wanted to, he could continue listening to songs about heartbreak and love shit (he has the over-the-ear headphones that block out everything).
Instead of letting me use his headphones, he put them on himself! I asked, “Isn’t that dangerous because you can’t hear the things going on around us? Also, I thought it was illegal. I won’t get cooties on them or anything.”
“Nope. I’m good.” Great! We were back to that? Awesome-sauce! “I can still hear stuff when I have them on,” he assured me as he put his headphones all the way back on.
FYI: I spoke to him at this point to see if he could hear things going on around us when he had them on.
He couldn’t (or he was faking it *sigh*).
So I mumbled under my breath to him the entire rest of the drive home. There was no way he could have heard me anyway…