September 15, 2012|
I feel like this was the worst night. With the blonde. Worse than any of the screaming. Or her threatening to dump me because she found out I almost hooked up with people when she was fucking other people at the fetal stage of our relationship.
Iím tired of feeling utterly controlled.
I told her I wouldnít go over unless I could sleep over. But the barbs she threw at me became too many, and sleeping next to her couldnít feel like rest anymore. I told her I can only handle hearing so many bad things about myself, and that Iíd appreciate it if she stopped. She responded non-verbally. No sorries or anything. But it seems like she constantly expects apologies from me for my untoward behavior. And sometimes apologies are warranted. But then she keeps going, she keeps going, she keeps battering at me until I feel utterly defeated because if I respond, she wonít listen to a word I say, and if she does, she wonít accept a word I say and will instead relentlessly attack.
I first responded jokingly to her saying she puts up with me being mean a lot more than she should by saying Iím nice, for bringing my PS3 and Arkham City over, and for shoving my face between her legs. And she just said I chose to do those things.
And maybe Iíve fallen for a girl who is kind of terrible. Again. As always. As usual. As always.
And when I commented on her friendís situation, and I said that it is easier for a girl to have sex at a party, and she argued with that, telling me Iím wrong. And eventually, that I donít listen to her. And thatís why she thinks she gets so upset with me, because I never listen to her, and this was after I said I can only handle hearing so many bad things about myself, which induced no form of reaction whatsoever, I sat up and said I would leave, like I have many times before, and allowed myself to be lulled back to the bed, but this time I decided I had almost left too many times. And that I was sitting up for a good reason. I was sitting up because she was saying things about me, about my personality, about my character, and how terrible it made me feel that she would not stop, that we couldnít have a good night together, maybe one in which we have sex, although she once recently said she did not want to have sex, presumably because people (I) sicken her.
I wasnít sitting up because I wanted to be pulled back into bed, but if she cared enough to try to convince me, I would have allowed it. Because what was bothering me was how utterly uncared for I felt. That she launched verbal barb after verbal barb, all because of something Iíd since apologized for, and then because I said I felt like she responds emotionally without analysis. I threw those barbs, I did. But I donít feel safe throwing any form of barb because she punishes me for hours, days, afterwards, and even when I feel right, I donít want to say things because she is convinced I am a stupid person who simply cannot understand her points. I feel that she is a person who looks away from the points I make when they make her uncomfortable and then abuses me when she feels like she isnít being worshipped enough.
I drove away hating all of my feelings. I hated not being with her, but I hated feeling that she was no longer someone I could be with, that the situation with her has become so frustrating that I couldnít even romanticize getting back into that bed and snuggling up to her. I still want that, but I feel that she is such an abrasive person, that I must suppress so much, that I cannot have a good argument with her because she degrades me and tries to shut my voice out, that I must choose quiet in order to maintain peace, even in the face of her enumerating all of my flaws, even as I stare out the window on the verge of tears, as I feel something inside of me breaking, wanting our relationship to become what it was, fearing that she is too young for me, fearing that she is just cruel. The years that separate us are appealing sexually, but emotionally, intellectuallyÖ it hurts me to see my old self in her because I know that back then I couldnít figure out what was going on outside of myself. And itís like thereís no amount of information I can share with her that will show her how she hurts me, and even if I did, Iím not sure she would care. Because either she doesnít care or she simply cannot understand.
Maybe another night will be better. I want those better nights so badly. I donít want to lay next to a girl who will say how mean I am while I am retrieving her glasses and phone and so on for her. With more self-respect-I-would-have-left-her. But I donít respect myself, and I am codependent and I so badly need her to be what she once was.
I shall go into a bit of hiding. Perhaps if she misses me, she will realize who I am.