Sometimes time does tell you something, even if it doles out the knowledge piece by piece.
Monday afternoon Andrew had said he would call me later. When later came, he said he would have to call me on Tuesday as he was working and even had to take his son to his ex-wife’s place. My last email to him was at 8pm and I offered that he could come by for a glass of wine when he was finished, if he was up for it.
He didn’t seem to read the text (we communicate on Blackberry Messenger which shows when a person has touched the screen and therefore read your text, but you can get around that) nor did he respond. That did not help my general mood.
Tuesday morning I decided to stop being pissy so at 8am I texted “so, how did it go?”. His response? “Not good, getting my son now, ttyl”.
I was fully prepared to not hear from him at all. But at 2pm he called. He sounded super stressed out about the different things going on in his life. I decided to not bust out the “I’m needy” conversation. So I kept it light and we chatted for 20 minutes until he had to go. He was having his parents over for dinner. I did tell him I missed talking to him, so he said “well then I will call you later tonight”.
At 9pm he texted that he was “going to flake out to NCIS, call ya when its over”.
I had just fallen asleep putting my son to bed, which was a sign that I really needed to go to sleep early. Which I told him. He said “should I call later or would you rather talk tomorrow?”
What I wanted to say: “Why the fuck would you prioritize television over me? Can’t you take 15 minutes to talk to me NOW?”
What I did say: “I will let you know when I turn out the light.”
Forty-five minutes later, I texted him that I was going to sleep (yes, only 9:45pm, if you are keeping track). Fifteen minutes later, he texted that if I was up to give him a call, otherwise we would talk tomorrow. I was already asleep.
He called me this morning. We chatted about a lot of nothing, then I decided I needed to say what was on my mind. The conversation went something like this:
- Me: I need to ask you something – but I’ve been debating whether to do so.
- Him: Okay, sure.
- Me: When was the last time you saw Tina? Was it when I was on vacation, and/or since I’ve been back?
- Him: You know I’m bad with dates [true], but it was over a week ago.
You might wonder why I asked this. It was because every conversation I played out in my mind that spoke about my concerns, was predicated on an assumption. I didn’t want to go down some crazy path if he in fact hadn’t seen her in weeks. On the other hand, if he had seen her several times, then I know my concerns were valid but also that there was little point in raising them.
As it turns out, it meant that the issue with him being focussed on me last Saturday had nothing to do with her (which he confirmed). And the one night he went silent when I was on vacation, was about her (I assumed). But equally importantly, none of the other times have been. So, I learned he just goes silent.
He told me he is not ready to give her up. I told him I wasn’t asking him to. I said assuming I didn’t know about her, it would be too early for me to have a conversation about exclusivity, and that I wasn’t about to ask him to give her up just to potentially turn around and tell him I didn’t want a relationship with him.
He laughed at that.
I told him I needed regular contact. That I needed some indication he was thinking about me. That I didn’t want to be ignored, or feel like I was being ignored. That I didn’t think we should have long conversations every night, because it sets a precedent I’m uncomfortable with. That when he’s with me, I need him to be with me. To be present.
I explained to him there were things I needed on Saturday night which I didn’t get. But I recognized I didn’t state them clearly, either.
By way of some explanation, he told me the volume of business he’s facing for October and November could equal the entire previous year. He wanted me to understand his general lack of availability and communication was truly about how busy he is.
Then he asked me if I wanted to know when he was seeing Tina.
I answered, honestly, that I didn’t know. He said “well let’s just leave it to if it comes up.”
The timing was bad, but he had to go for a few minutes while he dropped off his car. He said he’d call me back. Of course I had to go into a meeting so I sent him a text saying I had to jump on a call and if we missed each other perhaps we can chat later. I missed his call, but his voicemail said “of course we can talk later”.
So, at that point I was feeling pretty good. I was pleased I stated what I needed. The only remnant in my head was how it would feel knowing he chooses to see her instead of me. But it was pushed away to the corner of my brain so I could focus on work.
But then, here’s where the title of this post comes into play.
I texted him this evening. Here’s the transcript:
- Me: Finally home…long day. How are you?
- Him: Ok, long day and I’m out now, let’s talk tomorrow.
- Me [feeling sucky]: Okay…I thought we could talk tonight? I guess a glass of wine here is not an option?
- Him: No, sorry. Call ya tomorrow.
- Me [after typing and erasing all the things I wanted to say]: Perhaps tomorrow night, then.
Why does this piss me off so much? If he’s not with her, why can’t he volunteer what he’s doing? And if he’s with her, and he chose to see her instead of me? Then WHAT THE FUCK am I doing?
Someone asked me today how I could bear knowing that he’s with someone else. I think I need to face what my gut says – and if I write it here, I have to face it. The reality? If I was smitten, I couldn’t stand it. Like the actual physical pain I experienced just at the thought of Johnny Id being with another woman.
To be clear, the lack of communication and obfuscation bugs me. That he’d choose to see another woman (shit, even television!) over me bugs me. That I’m even spending all this time thinking about it bugs me. I’m irritated, but I’m not tearing myself apart with jealousy.
My expectations are not being met. Bottom line. The one benefit of casual sex, of being with men who are douchbags, is that I have no expectation of being treated well, of being adored. I know they will fuck me and then fuck me over. My expectations are very low.
So, I have a choice to make.
Is it terrible that the one thing I really want to do is the repeat threesome with him and Jason that we have scheduled for two weeks from now? And that I really want to take him up on his offer to bring me to a “down to fuck” event at a local swingers bar, which is for women who want to have sex with multiple men in one evening? That would be a few weeks from now.
I’d like to have those things. But I think if I keep expecting I’m going to get anything else, I will continue to be disappointed.