Jay and I had a fight last night. Not a large one, just bickering back and forth. Getting more and more slice and dice with the comments. Caring less about the other because of the constant ick in the air. I hate this. I hate that it’s deja vu all over again. Things slowly going down the shitter – going to bed angry, not resolving the fight, but ignoring it until it pops up again.
Right down to the getaway to try and help things. Let’s see. We had a fantastic time in the summer of 97. Two months later, we were filing for divorce. God, I hate this.
I love him, but he’s slightly narcissistic. He can up and leave the fucking room while I’m in the middle of the sentence and go run dish water. ? Da Fuck? So, last night he is talking during dinner. He starts finishing his story up after dinner and I remember I had laundry in the basement but I needed the basket, so I had to fold. I didn’t want to interrupt him, so I slowly backed into the other room. I expected him to follow. He stopped talking – completely. It was then I realized he was pissed. So i got pissed. Mother FUcker has cut me off, interrupted me, ignored me, placated me, and I get in trouble for going to fold clothes while telling him with my eyes and body language to follow me. I had my pop,purse in my hands, or else I would have waved. Asshole. I gave him a piece of my mind about how his narcissistic ass has hurt my feelings over and over for the past 29 years, and once — ONCE — I hurt his feelings, and he’s going to fucking start a world war over it. Whatever. He knows that he let me go to bed angry. Makes me angrier in the morning. OH well.
I’ll ride the train until it stops.