Shock and Awe

Tuesday, January 11, 2005: M's first date, didn't go very well, and it was my fault. Before he left, I specifically asked him how long he would be gone, and he said not late, that he would be home way before midnight. When 11:30 came and he still wasn't home, I called. He offered a lame excuse about not knowing what time it was. (Hello! They have this new invention called a watch. I don't think it will catch on in the mainstream, since it's only been around 140 years!) He left shortly after and called me on the way home. The fighting had started.

We ended up fighting until 2 a.m. M and I have two totally different ways of fighting. I fight, then I want to be left alone to think things out. M has to talk about things. Then he re-talks about things. Lastly, he re-re-talks about things. Get the point? For the past 3 years, I have had things my way, exactly zero times. I have to, no matter what, talk things out at that moment. I have learned how to answer questions without really answering them. With M, there is no tuning out, walking away, or saving the fight for a more appropriate time. No, we have to fight till the death. Even if it's 2 a.m. on a work day.

There are two things I dislike about M. (1) He has a hell of a temper. (2) He has a hell of a temper. He likes to have knock-down, drag-out fights. *Disclaimer: I am in no way an abused wife. I can fight with the best of them. I owe it to my Italian temper. I come from a long line of fighters. My grandparents, who were married 55 years when my grandmother died, fought all the time. But, they loved each other more than anyone I know.* He has also been known to throw things and punch holes in the walls. I on the other hand, hate fighting. It's a waste of time and energy.

I finally went to sleep a little after 2. I honestly can't remember why we stopped fighting, but we did. However, it wasn't the end of it. Oh no, we continued it Monday through emails. I got up and went to work, while M stayed home in bed. Our fight finally ended when I called him at 3 and apologized for being a bitch. I know I was acting like one, so I did the right thing and said I was sorry. That's where the shock comes in. He was seriously shocked that I called.

We have talked about some of the ground rules. First, we will be honest with each other, especially if something is bothering us. We will do everything possible not to upset the other person and if we can't, we will stop whatever behavior is causing the other person pain. Second, we will tell each other everything. No matter what. I hate being lied to, so when I called and he said he didn't know what time it was because he hadn't thought to look at the time, I went balistic. I would never think of saying something so ridiculous.

The sad thing is we didn't even have make-up sex. (Jerry: "Ya didn't have make-up sex? How could you not have make-up sex?... That's the best feature of the heavy relationship." George: "Heh! I missed out on the make-up sex!")

I really don't know how this whole thing is going to turn out. Is there a manual I can consult? It's not as if I can reach out to anyone in our real lives. We haven't exactly publicized the fact that we have an open relationship. I doubt my strict, Catholic family would appreciate that fact. I know his family wouldn't because they don't even believe in homosexuality! Therefore, I am out in open water, swimming alone.

I don't have a problem with him dating L. He just can't sleep with her, nor can he spend more time with her, than he does with me. I asked him if he'd be going out with her this weekend, but I never got a definite answer. He likes to answer questions, with questions. He learned that from me! So, getting anything definitive out of him, is like pulling teeth. You know, like the molars that have grown around your jaw bone, and you have to have surgery just to extract them. It's like that.

(M is now laying here watching Da Ali G Show. I'm guessing by his fits of laughter, it is the first time he's seen it.)

M only talked to L for a minute because she was having company. He told her he'd call her tomorrow. I think he's scared to talk to her now, but I'm over it. I'm surprised she hasn't called back because she'd the type who blows up the phone.

For your laugh of the day, read about Randy Moss. No, not his antics in the end zone, but his hair. I'm glad it wasn't just me. I spoke to one of my friends, and he said Moss needs to "perm that shit." He needs to do something. Just because you're excellent at what you do, does not give you license to be that creative with your 'do. I don't care how much you make, it doesn't mean that you get to throw all sense out the window. Is he married? Does he own a mirror? What about his teammates? The coach? The water boy for god sakes! Someone have a sit-down with this man. Drug him, grab a Wahl clippers and for the sake of humanity, cut his hair.

I have spoken.

Mich