Turns out M did not pick up Mexican food because he didn’t know what to order for me. That’s what the phone call was all about. He said that he knew I “was stuck on ordering the same thing,” but couldn’t remember what it was. Really? After eleven years he can’t remember that I always order a chicken burrito? If I can remember that his favorite dish is chile reyenos, or chile verde if they don’t have that, or a beef burrito, why can’t he remember that I prefer a chicken burrito? Srsly? I know his top three choices (and can make a good guess at what else he might like) and he doesn’t know my first? Obviously he has not been paying attention.
While we’re on the subject, I learned early on how he likes his coffee made, how he prefers his clothes to be folded, that he hates toothpaste in the bathroom sink, and needs three clear feet between pieces of furniture to navigate comfortably. I took notice of these things and a thousand more because I understood them to be important markers of my love and esteem for him.
Yet he doesn’t know how to make me a cup of tea. He refuses to fold or put away any of my clothes. He left the shop vac in the kitchen doorway so that I had to move it before opening the door to come in after work. A thousand markers of his contempt for me.
He also made some comments about himself last night. He said that the females in his life (me, the cat, the dog) are obviously not happy. That he has not been the “man I advertised myself to be.” Huh. That’s interesting. I’ve only been saying that for over five years now. Does he think that I will believe he is making an effort to change? Does he think this will make me stay?
After his profound statement (and no Thank You for dinner. Again. As usual.) he spent the rest of the evening playing his YouTube favorites at volumes that should cause sterility in small mammals. I hate the Guitar Star crap (but don’t say anything because they are his favorites and he has a right to his own opinion,) and I’ve told him many times that playing music at that high level is painful for me. Doesn’t matter. I left the room to read a book on my Kindle (which I LOVE, but that’s a different blog.)
He alternated between telling me he loves me so much and commenting that my pants must have shrunk. Oh, wait, is my belly bigger this week? And back to how great I am, but what about this? And so on.
If he’s thinking last night is an improvement over his behavior in the past, he is seriously mistaken.