…on top of the freezing stares, obligation, guilt and gaslighting, shake well and pour out over my head. That describes my evening yesterday.
I arrive home to more of the same – he’s sitting on the couch, cat and book in lap, not saying a word. I ask if he would like some hash browns and eggs for dinner. Nope, he’s not hungry.
“Are you going to cook?” he asks.
“I’m thinking about it,” I reply. After a few minutes, I got up and started preparing the packaged hash browns. He called me into the living room.
“Are you going to offer me any or are you going to eat the whole package?”
Srsly? I told him that I was about to offer him some and if he would like, I would make him a couple of eggs and an English muffin, too. That made him happy.
So the food is done, I set his plate on the table, poke my head around the corner and tell him that the food is ready.
“Can I be served?” He asks, gesturing to the cat on his lap. Sure. Whatever. He very rarely eats in the living room – it’s bad for Dog Discipline and if the dog were to beg it would be the end of the world – I’ve heard all about it for years.
I ate my dinner in the kitchen at the table, made a cup of tea and sat on the couch.
“TV?” he asks. I put on a movie that turned out to be rather violent and was in the process of choosing something else when he got up and started getting ready for bed. I know that violent movies are a trigger for him, so I turned it off as fast as I could, but that wasn’t fast enough for him. And we’re off.
He said something to me from the bedroom that I couldn’t hear – deliberately so that I would have to get up and stand in front of him like a child being punished – one of his favorite tactics. Turns out he had cleaned himself up to make himself “sexy” in the hope that I would join him.
I said that I was doing something else and would join him later. “You’re never going to fuck me again, are you?” he says in a plaintive voice.
I saw red. I went back into the bedroom and told him that I was not feeling it, that I had a right to be angry with him after he told me to go fuck myself and lectured me for using “incorrect language” when he knew full well what I was saying and that I do not have to put up with that kind of disrespect. If he thinks that sex is going to solve our problems he is wrong and I refuse to let him make me feel obligated. I asked him how long I had a right to be angry and he said, “what about MY anger? I’ve been angry for years!” Everything I said he had to trump – his pain is so much worse than mine. Always has been, always will be.
Blah, blah, blah along the usual lines from him, how I have no compassion for him, how I never “give in” and just give him a hug and a kiss and tell him that everything will be alright – all he wants from me is compassion, and intimacy is part of that – he needs it!
Once again, because I was so pissed off I could hardly see, I told him that I will not be giving him sex after he deliberately pushes all my hot buttons and makes me feel like shit. It’s not right, it’s not fair and I don’t have to.
“That’s what you do to me!” he screamed, “you push all my buttons and then I get mad and we end up here.”
“You’re twisting the situation, putting words in my mouth, hurting me and then denying you’re hurting me, using your “pain” as an excuse to batter me with words. You are aggressive, threatening and unreasonable and you do it on purpose to hurt me. I refuse to reward you with sex to fix this problem.”
I walked away. He dressed and got back up, but didn’t say a word to me. I walked the dog and undressed and got into bed. He followed. He asked me to put on some pajamas.* I put on panties and a T-shirt and got back into bed.
“Why don’t you sleep on the couch,” he said. Fine. I got up, added leggings and was on my way out the door when he started back in. Round and round. I stuck to my guns about respect and that he was not getting sex.
He changed tacks and started whining about how he needed me – how would he get along without me? Why can’t we just do some stuff together? Why do [I] have to be this way? Can’t I see how much pain he’s in? Where is [my] compassion? Am I planning on leaving him? Am I sleeping with someone else? Am I planning on sleeping with someone else?
He denies that he discounts my feelings. He denies that he pushes my buttons. He thinks it’s unfair that he has to “change” when I am the one who pisses him off and causes all this unwanted behavior.
It went on until about 1:00 AM, but I tuned out long before then. Finally he cites an example of how much he’s changed – he didn’t tell his friend D the actual steps to complete a boat repair, he “just” made one small recommendation about materials. See? He can control himself. Ummm…right. 400 miles away from the person who matters. What kind of “good” is that?
This morning he’s all calm and quiet, smiling and making small talk. Asshole.
* I don’t own any pajamas because they are for “children and old people” and he insisted on having Full Access early in our relationship. Because I was driven by lust, I agreed even though I am a flannel nightgown sorta gal. I no longer own any pajamas. Note to self – buy a nice, soft flannel sleep shirt ASAP!