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My big fat fight with Tery
Aug. 11th, 2003 04:01 pmI am so angry at Tery right now I don't even want to speak to her. And that is saying a lot after 11 years.
I frankly don't even know how our longevity is possible considering how little we have in common. It would be quicker to tell you what we agree on than what we don't: She is a night owl, I am up by 7 a.m. to exercise and begin work; she likes spicy foods, I am a meat-and-potatoes girl all the way; her taste in books and movies runs towards the historically accurate (i.e. Gangs of New York, Saving Private Ryan), mine decidedly less so (i.e. Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Terry Gilliam films); she loves sports of all types (often professing "lifetime devotion" to a new one every year thinking I'm not paying attention), the only athletic event I find remotely interesting is Quidditch (the book version, not the film); her music listening tends to include a little country, a little jazz, and hits of the 70s (Faith Hill, Diana Krall, 70s artists et.al.) whereas mine...does not (Nine Inch Nails, The Cure, Razed in Black, VNV Nation). If opposites attract and strength lies in diversity, then no wonder we are still together!
But nowhere do we differ as much as we do in how to relax. I am a very quiet, introspective person who enjoys watching movies, reading books, and writing. I positively loathe crowds and never developed a taste for alcohol. She is a very outgoing person who lives at the bar most of the weekend (she waitresses all day then hangs out at the end of her shift most of the night) who drinks probably more than she should and has many friends there.
Herein is where the problem lies.
For the longest time I simply could not understand the need to "hang out" until last call after already spending 8 hours working at the bar. Shouldn't 8 hours in one place be more than enough? I wanted her to come home and spend some time with me, since during the week our schedules are so exactly opposite that we literally only got an hour or two together between one or the other of us going to bed or leaving for work. But the pull of her friends was always too powerful. We would talk and she would promise "just one more beer and then I'll be home," finally walking through the front door 4 hours later. I was reduced to playing the Bitch, phoning her up 2 or 3 times before she would begrudgingly plod home. I became such a joke among her friends that apparently one night when Tery had gone over someone's house (without mentioning anything to me) and I called the bar (once) looking for her, the story that got back to her later was that I had called seven times, so controlling and possessive was I. God, that Elaine is such a bitch.
This issue was the cause of more fights than we have had about all other things combined over our whole relationship. I explained how much I hated being the wet blanket dragging her home, how annoying it was to think "well, I would love to pop in this movie, but Tery will be here any minute so there is no point in starting it" and then having her show up 4 hours later, and what it was like lying in bed at 2 a.m. wondering if she were still at the bar or dead in a ditch somewhere. She would apologize all over the place, promise to make it up to me and be more considerate, then the next weekend it would start all over again. It got to the point where I would cruelly laugh at her apologies, pointing out "sorry" only means something if I could truly believe it would never happen again.
This went on for countless weekends, countless nights of listening to her come home in the darkness and feigning sleep because I didn't want to have another fight at 3 a.m. and listen to more of her meaningless "sorry's."
Until one day we had another blowout fight about it, and she explained to me that she stayed out so late because of her schedule. Since she gets out of work between 8 and 9 p.m., midnight to her is like 6 p.m. is to me, early evening when she is just starting to enjoy herself. This made perfect sense to me so I lightened up considerably, giving her a lot more freedom, and the fights stopped. She frequently expressed her appreciation of this to me, and all was well.
Until last night.
I understand when she stays out on nights that I work, after all, what is the point of coming home to an empty house? I have told her in the past how happy it makes me when she IS home when I get out of work, but we are still working on that. Last night was a really easy inventory, we started at 6 p.m. and were done by 8, almost as good as having a night off. I rushed home to enjoy the evening and wasn't too terribly surprised to find her not there. I called her at the bar to let her know I was home. We had both worked all day/night Saturday and entertained Tabby Friday night, so hadn't really seen each other all weekend. She was surprised I was home already, she mistakenly believed I didn't START until 9 p.m. We said we missed each other, yadda yadda, but I slowly had the realization that she intended to stay at the bar. She said she was just sitting down with her friends. "Well, we mustn't disappoint your friends" I snapped bitterly. She protested she would call me back when she knew what was going on, I told her not to bother since I was going online. I said it wasn't like she had some sort of pressing engagement she couldn't get out of, she was just hanging out with friends. She pleaded with me not to be mad at her. I said I wasn't mad, just letting her know I was home cooking a frozen pizza and she could do what she wanted with this information. I felt that based on all that had gone before and how well she knew me, the implication was undeniable that I would prefer if she came home to me.
She did come home. 4-1/2 hours later, at 1 a.m.
I happened to be up, waking up automatically because of our diabetic cat's insulin schedule, and not surprised yet not at all happy to find her still not home. She walked in just as I was preparing the syringe, and any doubt that I was just unclear in my request was erased by her first words....guess? "I'm sorry." "Don't." I was so livid I couldn't think of anything else to say. She attempted to start a sentence several times, and I just kept saying "Don't. Don't." She tried one last time as I lay back down. "I'm sorry, I know I was wrong...." With my back to her, I said "I have to get up for work in 4 hours, so just get the fuck away from me."
I spent the entire morning fuming about it, going over it in my mind. I tried to imagine the thought process that led her to choose her friends over me, despite being quite familiar with (and fearful of) my wrath. I know I sound like a tyrant, but I felt that considering how cool I had been and how much freedom I had been giving her, to ask her to leave early just one night and spend some time with me wasn't all that unreasonable. It really did not help my rage when I started thinking about what her friends must have said when she told them I wanted her to come home, the jokes that were made, the cajoling, all the good reasons why she should stay with them and not try to make her life partner happy instead. The idea that she couldn't have enjoyed herself too much since she knew what she would come home to wasn't much consolation and only lessened my understanding of her decision. Just the hurt I felt that she seemed to put her friends' happiness over mine was enough to bring tears to my eyes right there in the inventory (I can be a right old drama queen when the mood strikes me, yessiree).
I got home from work just as she was getting ready to leave (those clashing schedules again) and I pointedly didn't even look at her, let alone speak to her. She mutely went about her business, accepting my silence. I called Tabby to ask about her night of work and carried on an animated, carefree conversation with her right in front of Tery (thinking all the while, "see, I can put MY friends first, too") then settled down to watch Alan in "3rd Rock From the Sun" (hilarious, by the way) and that cheered me up somewhat. She spoke only to let me know she was leaving, and she was gone.
Tonight we will talk. She will apologize, I will explain again how meaningless apologies are without actions to back them up, then we will eventually get over it and get on with our lives. She might change, she might not. But as always, I feel better getting this out in writing.
Sorry for such an angst-y entry, but I am usually only moved to write by very strong emotions.
-=Lainey=-
I frankly don't even know how our longevity is possible considering how little we have in common. It would be quicker to tell you what we agree on than what we don't: She is a night owl, I am up by 7 a.m. to exercise and begin work; she likes spicy foods, I am a meat-and-potatoes girl all the way; her taste in books and movies runs towards the historically accurate (i.e. Gangs of New York, Saving Private Ryan), mine decidedly less so (i.e. Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, Terry Gilliam films); she loves sports of all types (often professing "lifetime devotion" to a new one every year thinking I'm not paying attention), the only athletic event I find remotely interesting is Quidditch (the book version, not the film); her music listening tends to include a little country, a little jazz, and hits of the 70s (Faith Hill, Diana Krall, 70s artists et.al.) whereas mine...does not (Nine Inch Nails, The Cure, Razed in Black, VNV Nation). If opposites attract and strength lies in diversity, then no wonder we are still together!
But nowhere do we differ as much as we do in how to relax. I am a very quiet, introspective person who enjoys watching movies, reading books, and writing. I positively loathe crowds and never developed a taste for alcohol. She is a very outgoing person who lives at the bar most of the weekend (she waitresses all day then hangs out at the end of her shift most of the night) who drinks probably more than she should and has many friends there.
Herein is where the problem lies.
For the longest time I simply could not understand the need to "hang out" until last call after already spending 8 hours working at the bar. Shouldn't 8 hours in one place be more than enough? I wanted her to come home and spend some time with me, since during the week our schedules are so exactly opposite that we literally only got an hour or two together between one or the other of us going to bed or leaving for work. But the pull of her friends was always too powerful. We would talk and she would promise "just one more beer and then I'll be home," finally walking through the front door 4 hours later. I was reduced to playing the Bitch, phoning her up 2 or 3 times before she would begrudgingly plod home. I became such a joke among her friends that apparently one night when Tery had gone over someone's house (without mentioning anything to me) and I called the bar (once) looking for her, the story that got back to her later was that I had called seven times, so controlling and possessive was I. God, that Elaine is such a bitch.
This issue was the cause of more fights than we have had about all other things combined over our whole relationship. I explained how much I hated being the wet blanket dragging her home, how annoying it was to think "well, I would love to pop in this movie, but Tery will be here any minute so there is no point in starting it" and then having her show up 4 hours later, and what it was like lying in bed at 2 a.m. wondering if she were still at the bar or dead in a ditch somewhere. She would apologize all over the place, promise to make it up to me and be more considerate, then the next weekend it would start all over again. It got to the point where I would cruelly laugh at her apologies, pointing out "sorry" only means something if I could truly believe it would never happen again.
This went on for countless weekends, countless nights of listening to her come home in the darkness and feigning sleep because I didn't want to have another fight at 3 a.m. and listen to more of her meaningless "sorry's."
Until one day we had another blowout fight about it, and she explained to me that she stayed out so late because of her schedule. Since she gets out of work between 8 and 9 p.m., midnight to her is like 6 p.m. is to me, early evening when she is just starting to enjoy herself. This made perfect sense to me so I lightened up considerably, giving her a lot more freedom, and the fights stopped. She frequently expressed her appreciation of this to me, and all was well.
Until last night.
I understand when she stays out on nights that I work, after all, what is the point of coming home to an empty house? I have told her in the past how happy it makes me when she IS home when I get out of work, but we are still working on that. Last night was a really easy inventory, we started at 6 p.m. and were done by 8, almost as good as having a night off. I rushed home to enjoy the evening and wasn't too terribly surprised to find her not there. I called her at the bar to let her know I was home. We had both worked all day/night Saturday and entertained Tabby Friday night, so hadn't really seen each other all weekend. She was surprised I was home already, she mistakenly believed I didn't START until 9 p.m. We said we missed each other, yadda yadda, but I slowly had the realization that she intended to stay at the bar. She said she was just sitting down with her friends. "Well, we mustn't disappoint your friends" I snapped bitterly. She protested she would call me back when she knew what was going on, I told her not to bother since I was going online. I said it wasn't like she had some sort of pressing engagement she couldn't get out of, she was just hanging out with friends. She pleaded with me not to be mad at her. I said I wasn't mad, just letting her know I was home cooking a frozen pizza and she could do what she wanted with this information. I felt that based on all that had gone before and how well she knew me, the implication was undeniable that I would prefer if she came home to me.
She did come home. 4-1/2 hours later, at 1 a.m.
I happened to be up, waking up automatically because of our diabetic cat's insulin schedule, and not surprised yet not at all happy to find her still not home. She walked in just as I was preparing the syringe, and any doubt that I was just unclear in my request was erased by her first words....guess? "I'm sorry." "Don't." I was so livid I couldn't think of anything else to say. She attempted to start a sentence several times, and I just kept saying "Don't. Don't." She tried one last time as I lay back down. "I'm sorry, I know I was wrong...." With my back to her, I said "I have to get up for work in 4 hours, so just get the fuck away from me."
I spent the entire morning fuming about it, going over it in my mind. I tried to imagine the thought process that led her to choose her friends over me, despite being quite familiar with (and fearful of) my wrath. I know I sound like a tyrant, but I felt that considering how cool I had been and how much freedom I had been giving her, to ask her to leave early just one night and spend some time with me wasn't all that unreasonable. It really did not help my rage when I started thinking about what her friends must have said when she told them I wanted her to come home, the jokes that were made, the cajoling, all the good reasons why she should stay with them and not try to make her life partner happy instead. The idea that she couldn't have enjoyed herself too much since she knew what she would come home to wasn't much consolation and only lessened my understanding of her decision. Just the hurt I felt that she seemed to put her friends' happiness over mine was enough to bring tears to my eyes right there in the inventory (I can be a right old drama queen when the mood strikes me, yessiree).
I got home from work just as she was getting ready to leave (those clashing schedules again) and I pointedly didn't even look at her, let alone speak to her. She mutely went about her business, accepting my silence. I called Tabby to ask about her night of work and carried on an animated, carefree conversation with her right in front of Tery (thinking all the while, "see, I can put MY friends first, too") then settled down to watch Alan in "3rd Rock From the Sun" (hilarious, by the way) and that cheered me up somewhat. She spoke only to let me know she was leaving, and she was gone.
Tonight we will talk. She will apologize, I will explain again how meaningless apologies are without actions to back them up, then we will eventually get over it and get on with our lives. She might change, she might not. But as always, I feel better getting this out in writing.
Sorry for such an angst-y entry, but I am usually only moved to write by very strong emotions.
-=Lainey=-
