Going With the Flow Sent Me Over the Waterfall in a Wooden Barrell

The go-with-the-flow relaxation approach was great while it lasted...which was a record breaking 4 hours or so. Impresive, I know. Clearly I can talk the talk but trip and fall when trying to walk the walk. And I wasn't even chewing gum!

On Tuesday evening when I talked to Doc Harley on the phone, I asked if he was free for a date Wednesday night; I used the word date to differentiate from the hanging-out-at-home-with-friends kind of informal thing we've been doing a lot of lately. I wanted to do something just us, and something special and different at that. He said sure and voila! a date was made.

Or so I thought.

Last night while I was still at the office and we were text messaging back and forth, I had mentioned taking him out to a celebration dinner but by the end of the day he wasn't really up for it. Despite my initial selfish knee jerk reaction, I was very proud that I was able to realize that perhaps he had a long day and just needed to relax. I tend to forget that not everyone has a relaxed (albeit practically non-paying) sdj, like me, and that sometimes days can be long, trying, and stressful. Wow! I was being caring and accomodating! I was remembering that he has needs to and I should take those into consideration! Yay! Growth!

Or so I thought.

So the plan became to hang out at home, which I was okay with. I text messaged him that I was leaving the sdj at 7pm and that I would be there around 7:30pm; he wrote back that he was going down to the basement workspace. However, upon arrival in the midst of a monsoon, he was nowhere to be found. I called repeatedly, left several messages, and finally settled into a cafe a few blocks away to wring out my soaked person and have a glass of wine to soothe my soaked ego. I knew he was down in the basement, but I couldn't get into the basement without keys and he gets no cell phone reception in the basement. As the minutes ticked by, I became more and more upset. He knew I was coming over! How insensitive! I felt forgotten and unimportant and insignificant, to say the least.

I finally called again at 8:15, over half an hour later; much to my chagrin he answered the phone quite nonchalantly. I said "Where are you?" and he replied, "At home, on my couch. Where are you?". I was naturally quite taken aback by this answer and I said "I've been waiting for over half an hour! I called you like 5 times!" He said "I'm sorry, I was in the basement, I don't get cell reception there. Where are you?" I said "I left like 4 messages!" He said "i didn't get them except your text message just now. Where are you?" I told him that I was at a cafe around the corner and he told me to come over. He also mentioned that two of his friends were coming over for dinner in a bit. That little innocuous statement touched a raw nerve and just kind of set everything off. Not only was I left out in the rain, but then he had invited friends over for dinner? On a night that I wanted to spend with just him? I sat in silence for a moment and then I said, "You know, I think I'm actually going to head uptown." Naturally, he asked me, "What's wrong?" to which I of course immaturely replied "Nothing, I'm going uptown, okay?". He said, "Okay, well, call me when you get there, okay?".

I hung up the phone and sat in the not-so-comfortable cane cafe chair, staring out the giant window at the rainy bleak and miserable outer landscape which I was certain seemed to be the universe reflecting my inner landscape. I sat and stared, completely motionless and barely aware of what I was even feeling for quite some time; feeling only a symbiotic outpouring with the endless drops descending resignedly from the sky.

I finally summoned my wits from the deep depths of who-knows-where into which they had descended, paid the check and stepped out onto the street clutching my pink umbrella as if it were my only lifeline. Like a lost child, I wandered aimlessly for a few blocks, undecided as to what to do or where to go. I finally picked up my cell phone (the one just purchased for an exhorbitant amount yesterday afternoon because Verizon took off my insurance without my knowledge or permission when I changed my cell phone account last fall) and called Mr. Saucy Funnybuns.

"Hi!", I said in a desperate choked voice. "I'm coming over, okay?"
"What happened? What's wrong?"
[to be read as one long sentence inserting random overdramatic sobs throughout]: "I finally called DH and he said he was at home on the couch and didn't get my messages and I was forgotten in the rain and he invited his friends for dinner and I wanted time alone with him and he doesn't want to spend any time with just me! I told him I was going uptown and he asked if anything was wrong and I said no and he just said to call him when I get uptown, that's all!"
*pause *
*more pausing *
"Okay, well, you're welcome to come over...you're welcome to come over anytime, that's why you have keys. But are you sure that's what you want to do?"
"Do you think I'm overreacting?"
"Maybe just a little? Well, not overreacting, please! I'd never say you were overreacting. But I think this may be about something else entirely, Synge. I think this is more about the fact that you sent that text message and put yourself out there and he hasn't responded. I think its more about that than the fact that he invited friends over for dinner."
"But I was waiting for half an hour! And it was raining!"
"Listen honey, you do what you want. If you want to come here, come here. But if you're going to call him when you get here, you might want to just call him before you get all the way up here and then just turn around and go back downtown."
"Should I call him?"
"I think you should do what you want to do, I'm just saying if you're going to call him you should do it while you're still in his neighborhood, that's all."

So I called Doc Harley and I told him that I was hurt and upset. He was concerned and asked why and I told him that I had wanted tonight to be some time for just us (in all fairness, I had made no mention of tonight being just the two of us up until this point) and then he invited his friends over for dinner and I was feeling like he didn't want to spend time alone with me. He told me that it wasn't at all that he didn't want to spend time alone with me; his friend had spent all day building a desk and shelves for his office and he felt like the least he could do was invite him and his fiancee over for dinner. He said the friends wouldn't stay long and then we'd have some time to ourselves. He did apologize, and I asked if he thought I was overreacting and he said "Maybe just a little bit?"

So I went over there. I called back Mr. Saucy Funnybuns on my way, still a little tearful. As I approached his front door, the Funky Godchild was walking towards me on the block and gave me a big hug and kiss and asked if I was okay; I felt like perhaps I was wearing too much of my heart on my sleeve and should put on an overcoat but it turns out that she had been at Dh's place and knew I was upset.

When I walked into the apartment Doc Harley was on the couch smoking a cigar. He got up, crossed the living room to me, gave me a hug and a kiss and said "Don't be sad. Its okay! Everythings okay! I do want to spend time with you, I just had to invite over these guys because [friend] built these shelves for me. That's why I was in the basement when you called. I was staining the shelves." He actually told me not to be sad several times in the evening; while I know he was trying to be reassuring, the phrase "Don't be sad" is not exactly super reassuring to me.

So the friends came over for diner - and the thing is that I do love these friends. I think they're great and I really enjoy hanging out with them. It had more to do with me and feeling like I was unimportant and invisible, just in general, than it had to do with the fact of these friends coming over. We ate dinner and got into a bit of a political discussion (imagine that) that I was enjoying except for the fact that DH has the tendency to interrupt, as if his opinion and what he has to say holds far more weight and validity than anyone else's thoughts and opinions. Then we watched Southpark and part of Meet the Fockers.

And here we enter yet another difficult ground to navigate. DH loves TV and I hate the TV. I don't think Doc Harley fully comprehends exactly how much I abhor the TV. I would rather do pretty much anything...even clean, than watch TV. That to me is not spending time with someone. When I was in college, I used to get angry when I came home and my roomate was watching TV, because I get sucked in and its just not enjoyable to me in any way shape or form. I feel my entire being atrophy with each second that passes; it makes me want to scream! So far, I have compromised and watched TV with him a few times (albeit often burrying myself in a book after a little while because I can't stand it), but I don't want this to become a frequent activity. To me it almost feels like an impolite intrusion in our relationship, like the relatives that just don't know when to leave or something...only its an inanimate fucking object!

Okay, sorry, I didnt mean to go off on that, but my aversion to television is really that extreme; anyone who knows me well knows that about me. I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that I was only allowed to watch one hour of PBS a day growing up; something for which I am eternally grateful to my parents for.

Finally, Doc Harley decided that for whatever reason, we'd watched enough of the movie and he told his friends goodnight and that it was time to go. He then took me to the basement to proudly show me the desk and shelves that his friend had built and that he was staining underground as I was drowning above ground. I made the appropriate oohs and ahs and we walked back to his place to have the little bit of alone time I wanted.

We had more than alone time and it was lovely; he was ummm, extremely attentive (not that he's not usually). I guess it was like make-up sex, minus the fight and minus the resolution really. We stayed up talking for a bit but he was starting to drift off as I was talking and keeping him awake. Finally he asked if he could just listen to the radio for a bit. I was a little pouty, but quickly fell asleep myself. In the morning he asked if I was upset that he didn't want to talk anymore last night; he explained that his brain just kind of shuts off when he falls asleep at night and when he wakes up in the morning (that brain of his is beyond my comprehension sometimes; while he's incredibly intelligent the leaps of logic he makes create these giant complex webs of art in my brain after a while and all I hear is the pattern not the words). I told him that I had forgotten, so I supposed I wasn't that upset. It showed he is trying to be sensitive of my feelings.

So I've been a bit upset all day; more so at the insensitivity shown by leaving me out in the rain when he knew damn well that I was coming over. He didn't know that I wanted time alone with just him, so I can't really fault him for that. But he did know I was coming over, he knew I was leaving work at 7pm, and he was still down in the basement staining shelves and a desk until 8pm. That is insensitive. That shows me that I am less important than a desk and shelves!

I am waffling between feeling completely justified in being overemotional and feeling like perhaps I am blowing things a bit out of proportion. I am also bleeding like a stuck pig at the moment so I am ubersensitive and ultraemotional; throw that into the mix and its one hell of a confusing/sobby/angry/apologetic/sensitive day. In one moment it feels like this is so huge and horrible and I should clearly end it all right now and in the next moment I think that perhaps Mr. Saucy Funnybuns is right and this all has far more to do with the fact that I put myself out there and have received no response and I'm feeling naked and vulnerable and scared and then I just think maybe its all because I'm having a really tough period because I took the Plan B pill this month and my hormones are all screwed up.

I have no fucking idea which feeling to listen to.

So I'm going to go to Mr. Saucy Funnybuns' apartment and drink copious amounts of wine while crying on his shoulder; while it may not resolve anything, it will make me feel better.