As promised, Saturday morning Loverman came over to my apartment to check on my broken-down car, Breezy, and he needed to put the catalytic converter back on my truck, Bear. (OMG! That’s twice in a row now that he has stuck to the plan! Holy shit!).
While we were waiting for the battery in Breezy to charge, I was going to sit in the cold and just wait – I didn’t really want to sit anywhere close to Loverman – but he told me not to be silly out in the cold when I could just be in his warm and running truck with him.
Electric sparks of tension bounced back and forth between us as we sat together uncomfortably, and then we started talking about our horrible, terrible, no good, very bad vacation.
For 30 minutes or so, he maintained that the entire skate debacle was my fault and that if I hadn’t “started everything off just like last year”, things would have gone well (hmmm… like they did last year???).
The battery was charged completely and I got out to start Breezy. Loverman checked to make sure that it was the alternator that had gone bad.
With the charge that was left in the battery, I moved Breezy to a better parking spot closer to my apartment, and then Loverman asked me to get back into his truck so we could continue our
argument discussion. For a moment we talked about the plans for fixing Breezy, then we went back to talking about the sk8-venture from hell.
As we started to talk, he drove away from the apartment parking lot – so we could have a longer talk without getting interrupted by curious family members of mine wondering when we would be leaving to do the grocery shopping. I tried to break the tension with a joke (huge mistake!). I said, “Well, heck. If you’re kidnapping me and taking me to Mexico at least let me go back and grab my purse so we can get gas and food!”
Holy shit! He stopped so fast that the tires squealed and I thought his truck was going to flip end-over-end (and we were only going 5MPH, still in the parking lot). He pretended like he thought I was serious and acted super-offended that I thought he was going to ‘kidnap’ me. I tried to explain to him that it was only a fucking joke – we used to joke about running away to Mexico together all the time. What the fuck!?!? After another argument, he finally turned around and we continued to exit the parking lot to further our discussion from hell.
After talking to him about it in length, it seems that when I asked him for a kiss and a smack on the ass Saturday morning after our Friday night skate party, it was just too much pressure for him to handle. He simply wanted to shit, shower, shave and sleep. He still doesn’t know why I couldn’t just be happy with a couple pecks when “we had the entire weekend to spend together!”
I said, “I wish you would have told me that our vacation wasn’t going to be sexual. If I would have known that ahead of time, I never would have pressured you for sex or tried to be intimate with you.”
He responded, “I just wasn’t feeling that into it at that moment and I didn’t think I needed to. I was all gross and smelly and we had 3 days to ‘get together’. So I didn’t think we had to be all rushed about it.”
From my point of view, it seems like I had no chance at all of having a good sk8-venture with him. There was no way I could have done anything right — because, in his crazy imagination, I had already done everything wrong, before things even got started.
He didn’t even tell me the rules! (not that knowing them would have helped me at all, though)
Just as I suspected, he had set me up to fail – consciously or subconsciously, it doesn’t matter.
While we were talking, he asked me how much of a relationship is about sex to me. It didn’t take long for me to respond, “It depends on the type of relationship. The kind that I thought we had…. About 50/50, intimacy to friendship. And, intimacy isn’t just sex — I count sharing private thoughts, holding hands, kissing in public, being comfortable talking to each other, etc…”
He then clarified that “friends with benefits” means the same to him as “being in a serious relationship” does to me. He explained that my definition of intimate partners is the same as his definition of friends with benefits.
And after over 2 hours of all of that bullshit over and over again, the mother-fucker still wouldn’t take any responsibility for ruining our weekend.
I spent most of my time trying to explain to him how badly he treated me and how hard I kept trying to have a good time with him – even after he kept kicking me down.
He spent most of his time putting thoughts in my head and words in my mouth — telling me that he knew how I was going to be and what I was going to do. That’s what ruined things.
He’s completely focused on how everything went wrong with our sk8-venture 2014 because of me and (whether it’s my fault or not) he refuses to forgive me or try to get past it.
Unless I will take full responsibility for the nightmare.
He would only apologize for being late.
Remember – his tardiness is something I was never really angry about *sigh*
Like I said at the beginning of this stupid ‘adventure’: “He needs to learn forgiveness or we are done.”
Especially if it’s something I didn’t even do.
He’s already punished me for over a week.
I have been struggling with this thought for the past few days and it gets harder to deny as time passes: I think Loverman and I are done.
Until he has my vehicles up and running, he will be my mechanic. After that, I just don’t know…
Things will probably never be the same with us. From now on, I think it will always be a struggle to communicate with each other.
He is too busy holding onto demons from his past – a time before he ever even knew me.