Crashed and burned. I hate this. I really, really hate this. If it weren't for the fact that DB'ing gives me a reason to come to these boards and engage with you fine people I'd throw in the towel right now. I'm fed up. I'm absolutely positively fed up.
She called from work, supremely pissed because her IT department found 7 different pieces of spyware on her laptop computer. Um, hello? How many times I have told you you don't practice safe computing?
But no. It was MY fault. It was all part of my master plan. Like in the Hitchcock movie where the guy tries to make his wife think she's going crazy. No, honestly, this is the analogy she uses. A Hitchcock film. Because I'm that clever I guess.
And we're off to the races. She unloaded. All of it. Everything that had built up. And I took it -- MOSTLY. And that "mostly" is the kicker, because we wound up having a real barn-burner.
But dammit, she said some things that were downright unfair -- really cheap shots -- and I had to draw a line.
You think I'm going to screw up the kids! In fact I do think divorce does screw kids up. What would YOU do?
I can't say what I would do if I were in your shoes. Because I'm not, so I can't imagine how it must feel to be you. Speaking only for me, my values, I don't think that I am free to make any decision I want. Why? Because of the kids. I think that factor means that I have fewer choices than I would if I were single or even married without children. But I'm not. Those are my beliefs.
FINE! I'll stay. And you're going to suffer in a loveless, sexless marriage while I gradually hate you more and more.
At that point I just started looking for an escape. You're angry, you're lashing out, I understand why. But please don't put words in my mouth. I didn't say I wanted that, I didn't say you should do that. You asked me what I would do, and I told you. I'm not judging you.
Oh you're judging! You're trying to trick me into staying and then trick me into marriage counseling -- for what? There's nothing there. There will NEVER be anything there. And more of the same until finally she agreed to stop the convo and to never speak about the R again.
And then promptly asked, What is it you want from me?
My reply: I don't want anything. Except to end this call.
And so it did.
It's like being right back at square one, right after the d-bomb. And why? Because she assumes the worst about me.
Oh crap.
UPDATED 5 minutes later:
And when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
W calls. We're still going out Thursday, right, because she wants to see what it's like to be with me just as a person.
Pass that .44 over here, will you? I want to clean it. No, no; I'm sure it's unloaded.....
