Less like a lake.

So, no more secrets.

She hasn’t spoken to me tonight since we left my brother’s apartment, because I’m “so fucking rude.”  Selected quotations: “I don’t even know who you are when you act like that…let me out of the car…I’d rather be freezing in the cold wandering around Halifax all night than being in this car right now…your actions disgust me…”

All of this because I did not talk to the guy she is currently taken with.  In her defense, I did not talk to him.  In my defense, she gives her all to make their time together awesome.  I barely get an iota of effort.  I’m not sure if effort is necessary, but I’m not sure why I should feel like second best.

There are too many lies in this relationship, on both sides.  Her mind has wandered over and over.  I’m not sure why I care, sometimes.  My accomplishments and actions don’t have the potency they once did.  I’m starting to feel only slightly useful, and only in doing the mundane things: doing laundry, washing dishes…

When she had her encounter with Rainforest, she told me she didn’t think it was a big deal, and similarly to Adam, thought I was an asshole for not being extremely warm and friendly with him.  She almost kissed him, and I am the asshole for not being accepting.  This is logic.

She doesn’t realize that I always look out for her, always.  If I can’t ‘take’ what she gives me, I’m less of a man.  Now she is sleeping in our bed.  The last thing she said to me was “you are annoying me. Close the door.”

I know nothing is ever perfect always.  I never thought I would date someone who would meet her friend for late night cigarettes.  I hate cigarettes.  After Liz, I didn’t think I’d ever let someone push me around or fuck with my emotions again.  Now I am in the cycle again.  It’s not whiny bullshit; it’s simply a matter of trying to understand why I stick it out.  She’s stopped having sex with me.  She is sometimes nice to me.  She spends all of her time making sure she looks good for work.  She doesn’t do anything around the house. Sometimes she talks about what dog we are going to get.  This winter she tried to break up with me nice.  Sometimes she’d rather be hanging out with her friend Laura, the chain smoking stinky hippie.  I’m weird.  I don’t like Laura, at all.

Her consistent defense is that she shouldn’t have to reassure me. She also says my weirdness and insecurity is all in my own head (and that is true, to an extent).  But she knows how to push the buttons, and she likes pushing them.  It gives her power.  She likes the power.  It keeps me jumping through hoops to try and make things better and better - the small things are no longer enough.  Fuck that: the big things are no longer enough.  I am no longer enough.  Besides: I have light brown hair, pale skin, and blue eyes.  She has always preferred dark skin, dark hair, and brown eyes.  Doomed.