The First Disappointment

It is inevitable...it happens in every new relationship at some point. That first little stab in the heart that shows that no relationship is perfect. That moment when you realize that your new partner is actually human. Mine is no exception.

I feel like I have spent my entire adult life in the bar. I have worked in a bar in some capacity for the better part of my adult life. I love going out, ALOT. It was one of my biggest complaints in my marriage that we never went out. I love it. Its great to be out with people listening to good music and having a good time.

However, when I am done, I am DONE...tapped out...over it...had enough of drunk people...had enough of loud idiotic drama. And in a perfect world, I would say something or act about 10 minutes before I actually do. Before I start to twist things around in my mind and start taking everything personally.

Last night I tried. I really did. I didn't want to go to the saloon and said so. I was happy to drive the fuzzy face and his buddies there, drop them off, and pick them up again when they were finished. I meant it sincerely. I WANT him to spend time with his friends, its important to have room in a relationship for alone time or time with your own friends or whatever.

Where it all went wrong and jumped the tracks was after he got home. I wasn't upset with him at all! I was a little moody, really tired, and slightly disappointed that I wasn't going to get any lovin'. But mad, upest, or angry never crossed my mind. Then he asked, "What's wrong with you? Are you mad cause you're not gonna get any??" To which I foolishly snapped, "No, I'm mad because when I am done, I'm done."

From there, lets just say things spiraled out of control. It ended up with me practically freezing to death and crying on the couch-which for the record is REALLY uncomfortable. He was on the bed most likely having the bed spins until he settled into a scotch induced coma. I found my way back downstairs eventually despite my best effort to be tough. I missed his warmth and his breathing.

For me, this morning was a switch from what I am used to. When I woke up there he was, getting dressed to get the girls. Not yelling, not belittling, not berating, and not continuing a non-issue argument born of my moodiness and him being slightly intoxicated. Even now I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop...that unexpected stealth bomber phone call with all the screaming and put downs. Rationally I know that Fuzzy Face wouldn't do that. I KNOW it, like I know my own name. But I can't quiet that small voice that lives deep in my brain that says, "You aren't worth the effort and he's going to treat you just as you are used to." FF will even go so far as to calmly say, "I'm not like that. I am totally different". He is, he really is.

So what is the lesson? First, I don't like arguing with Fuzzy Face. More than likely, he is right. He just gets me and tells me when I am being irrational. Next, and this is pretty big, not everyone in this world is going to hurt me. I am going to be cherished, just like I have always wanted (insert tears and a sniffle here). And I am working on believing that I am worth it. Finally, yelling and being defensive right away is not the best answer. Sometimes taking a breath and remembering that your boyfriend is drunk is a good thing. Just go to sleep. Seriously. You know you love him, you know that tomorrow is another day, and you know that you are being crazy moody. Let it go.