Wednesday, October 15, 2003

Shit hits the fan, yet again 

On Monday night, Steve asked me to call and wake him up at midnight. Nothing new there, he was off the next day and usually stays up all/most of the night when he's not working. However, he never answered the phone. I kept it ringing for six hours straight -- nothing.

Needless to say, I was a little concerned. Was he hurt? Dead? Not at home for some weird reason? And how was I going to get home?

I'm unable to drive, so Steve always brings me to and from work. Well, he missed picking me up once before, but that was before I started letting the phone ring for hours to try waking him up. Anyway, once 5:50am rolled around, I knew I was going to have to ask a co-worker for a ride home.

So I asked Lupe, who works my shift and has given me rides before. He's a nice old fart, and said of course he'd take me home. After all, it's not really out of the way for him. I'd also asked him to have George call me up at the lobby when he arrived, because I needed to relay a message.

George called at 6:00 on the dot. After I gave him the message, he said, "Hey, wasn't Lupe going to bring you home? Because he just drove off."

Lupe apparently forgot to take me home, which meant I was fucked. No money for a cab on hand, which meant I'd be walking. It's not all that far -- a mile and a half or so -- but with South Texas heat and humidity it seems like twice that far.

So I walked home, fuming and worried. When I finally got to our apartment, I saw the car was parked outside, so at least I could figure Steve was home. I ran up the stairs, now more worried about his safety than anything, opened up the door... and was greeted with the loudest snoring I've ever heard.

Apparently, he'd forgotten to set the alarm, and didn't hear the phone ringing. For six hours. Gah.

I woke him up, which was quite a struggle. I decided against bitching him out because obviously he hadn't intended to leave me stranded at work. Besides, I figured he felt guilty enough about it without me adding to that. Then we had a bit of a weird conversation, where he said if he'd needed to go to work, he would have woke up... since he doesn't have as much of an incentive to come pick me up as he does for making it to work on time. IOW, not getting fired.

This is the disadvantage of having a lifelong commitment to someone -- they're unafraid of being dumped, which makes it a lot easier not to do what needs to be done.

Okay, well, whatever... we wound up in bed talking for a while, and I noticed he was getting rather short with me. "You seem kind of pissy," I said.

"I'm pissy all the time," he answered. "Probably because your constant reminders to do things grate on my nerves."

This one just blew me away... I'd walked home because he didn't set the alarm. I hadn't bitched him out about it, even though he probably deserved it. And here he was bitching at me about "reminding him to do things". What the hell?

A spectacular fight ensued -- he said I wanted him to be dependant on him, that I was treating him like I was his mother, etc. Finally, I just said, "Look, you set the alarm for 5:30 every morning. I call you at 5:50 and you're asleep. What would happen if I didn't call?"

"I wouldn't wake up."

"Right, so I walk home, get here at 6:35, and since you don't want reminded.. after all you're an adult and can figure out the consequences of your own actions.. I get home, and don't wake you up. You have to be at work at 6:45. What happens?"

"I get fired."


I don't like having to call Steve every damn morning and coax him out of bed (assuming he answers the phone!). It'd be absolutely wonderful if he just showed up to pick me up at 6:00 and made it to work on time without all that. But that's not going to happen anytime soon, and we really can't afford to lose his income. Mine alone is not enough to keep the bills paid, and food in the pantry.

He saw my point and apologized, so we went to sleep. We woke up around 6:00pm and went to go pick up my paycheck and cash it. Afterwards, I took him out to eat at Applebee's. On the way there, I asked him not to be mean to me for the rest of the day because I wasn't sure I could handle it.

Dinner went well, so we got home, cracked open a couple of beers and talked for a while. Then we started talking about movies I have on my hard drive (which hasn't been hooked up in about seven months), and decided to plug that sucker in and see what I had on it.

So I say, "I'm going to go take my hard drive out." My computer was laying on the living room floor, half-assembled. I'd grabbed the screwdriver and was taking it out, when he took it out of my hands and started removing it himself.

Well, whatever. I didn't feel like complaining, although it did kind of annoy me. What, I can't take a hard drive out? I've been building computers since '94.

Somehow we wound up bickering over whether there was a screw in a certain location. I said I didn't see the screw he was talking about... we got out the hard drive, and sure enough the screw he was referring to was there, just hard to see. I didn't think anything of this.

So then Steve's installing my hard drive in his computer, and he said something that made me think he was pissed. "Are you mad at me?" I asked.



"I'm mad about the screw."

So here we go again -- he's pissed off because I didn't see a screw in the hard drive? What the hell...

As I recall, I blew up around then. We were both drunk and belligerant, so the argument was heated and made little sense.

"Yeah well, you didn't let me take my hard drive out. I guess since I don't have a DICK I'm not allowed to touch my own goddamned computer!"

I don't remember much of the rest, except that he gave this bizarre explanation for his behavior that sounded incredibly self-centered. I pointed this out, he agreed he was self-centered, I said something about how he didn't love me or some such. Hurrah for drunkeness, I guess, I definitely had blown it out of proportion.

He stormed off into the spare bedroom. I moped in our bed. He came back a while later, I attempted to discuss the matter with him, and he fell asleep.

There is nothing that bothers me more than when he falls asleep in the middle of a conversation. Except, perhaps, when he goes off to play computer games when I need him.

So I took my pillow and slept in the spare bedroom. The floor is hard, and against my better judgement I went back to bed around 7:00am. By this time I'd decided to invest in some kind of makeshift bed and move into the spare bedroom indefinitely.

I guess we got everything straightened out, since. The last couple of days have been incredibly long, though, and I've no clue what this ugly new trend means. Oh well -- guess we'll wait and see.


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