Eighteen missed calls. Let me say it again. Eighteen missed calls. I went to the gym and left my phone at home. When I returned home after two hours, there were EIGHTEEN MISSED CALLS on my FUCKING phone! You know who it was, don’t pretend you don’t!
I called back, got voicemail and said, “Are you on fire? Because this is excessive.” He called back when I was blasting the new shit I just downloaded (club music, not country this time) and I didn’t hear when he called back SEVEN MORE TIMES. Who does this?? I was dialing in to check the voicemail he left, and he called again. I clicked over and said, “Funny how you painted me to be crazy to those two chicks you nailed, and you’re acting again like a complete psycho.” We proceeded to have a conversation in which he ended up hanging up on me (again.)
In the 25 minutes we spent on the phone, he said that yesterday (Monday) was the first day we haven’t spoken since we started dating. I said, “Yeah, it was fucking Monday! You know I just got ridiculously busy at work and I had a lot of shit to do.” He said that if I wanted to call him, I would have, but I chose not to. Okay, point taken. But I said, “I don’t like having to check in.” Then he accused me of pushing him away. Moi? I would never do such a thing. (Cough. I just choked on something. Was that sarcasm??) Most of the conversation was him yelling at me, telling me I’m manipulating him (interesting coming from him) and me not caring – which he called me out on. My retorts to his rundown of the last 48 hours of our “non-speaking” included gems such as, “I told you I’m not a good girlfriend” and “I hate having to answer to someone.” I should copyright that shit.
The truth is, and I did say this – sometimes I just like to disappear into my own little world. It’s not normal, but it’s what I do. Look what I did with this blog – I ripped it away from so many people and only let a fraction back in. When I feel too exposed, in any capacity, I shut down and back off. I can’t explain it, it’s just something I’ve always done. When I was in high school, I used to go up to my room, shut the door and turn off the lights and listen to music for hours. In college, I’d stay in on a weekend, when I knew everyone would be out, just so I could have the place to myself.
Trust me, I need more alone time than the average person. My latest “alone time” wave started last week. I warned him long before the weekend that I wanted to do a lot of stuff around the house and wasn’t going to want to go out. (Mail piling up, clothes need to be weeded through and donated, etc.) Friday, he was nagging me to come over and I really didn’t want to. He came over, and distracted me from the cleaning I wanted to complete. Then Saturday I saw the U Street Girlfriend in Washingtonian and it put me in a shitty place emotionally. I then forced myself to go over to Sherlock’s so I didn’t have to hear the nagging. By Sunday he pissed me off with his inability to get my sense of humor. When we had sex on Sunday it was so…boring. I knew if we didn’t have sex he would really think something was wrong. So I prance into the bedroom and we have the boring sex and I’m like, “Okay, gotta go. It’s late.” He said, “No, it’s an hour earlier, I haven’t changed the clocks.” I was like, “OH GOOD! I have shit to do at home!” I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He even said it was like I was running out. I was. I didn’t want to be there anymore.
By the way, we haven’t kissed since, um, before this latest blow up. I know, how are we managing to have sex for the last week and a half without kissing? It can be done my friends, let me tell you. I’m shocked that I’ve been able to pull it off. I just don’t feel like kissing him. Every time he tries, I move away. Fucked up, I know. All this latest saga with the Travel Girl shit and her subsequent email and him following me to Citron and hiding at the bar, it did a lot of damage. A lot. I think the kissing thing is too personal. Make your jokes, I’ll fuck him but not kiss him. Yeah. So? I don’t want to hold his hand or sleep over either, so there!
When I lived with AtlantaBoy, he and I had a fight, similar to what Sherlock and I just had, where AtlantaBoy said, “I wish you knew how it felt when I get shut out.” And I said, “I wish you knew what it was like to live with black clouds EVERY DAY. You can see them coming but you can’t stop them. And all you want is to be alone.” Anyone who forces their way into my path when I’m like this will be destroyed. I may live to regret it, but I’ll still destroy it in the interim.
So Sherlock ended the conversation by saying, “I’m not giving up on you. I hate being shut out, but I’m not giving up.” Then he hung up on me.
See, the irony here is not that he’s been shut out of my world. It’s that I’ve shut myself out of his. Really, I’m the one on the outside looking in, he just doesn’t know it.