i quit smoking pot tonight. i have to ask him when i want some and if i don't approach him just right, at just the right time, i get scolded or belittled or mocked. and i'm sick of it. sick enough to just say fuck it and give it up.
we looked at a house. overall it was dreamy. open and full of amenities, with a loft upstairs and huge windows. i don't know if i mentioned it, but doc and i got in a huge fight when he suddenly decided he wanted the master bedroom of whatever place we get, when he had promised it to me. i'm a girl, i need a private bathroom. i totally freaked out and he freaked out right back and i lost the fight. it was either lose or leave. and i'm horrible at leaving people, he totally called my bluff on that one. (i should have just bought the bus ticket and left while i had the money in the bank.) so, we are in this dreamy new house looking around and the secondary bedrooms are tiny and i balk, and offer to make the loft a bedroom. and he tells me the loft is not a room, which it isn't but still, i can do a lot with fabric and screens.
we're wandering around this house, and there is no realtor there trailing us and listening, so we're able to talk freely about how great it is and what if and look here and such bullshit. the backyard is walled in, with rocks and small palms spread around. there is a concrete patio and balls of privacy. the kitchen was a former chef's dream. really, i dreamed about it. etcetera.
there was a formal dining room off the main entrance down stairs and off the kitchen as well. and a half bath down stairs as well. neat. i could go on and on about it, i really loved this house, but i'll go on with my story instead.
this, later in the day, was his compromise regarding the tiny room and bathroom shared with m, who is, due to his complete reclusiveness, a complete stranger to me: take the dining room. do my thing with screens and sheets, build my tent in there like i planned, plus have room for the computer setup i planned out and the cat sanctuary i had planned to build, with room to spare. use the guest bathroom downstairs for toilet business, and shower and bathe in his bathroom.
brilliant, IF IT WEREN'T FOR MY SOCIAL PHOBIA AND THE COMPLETE LACK OF PRIVACY. but hey, i wanted that house and i will have my tent and computers. if not, what is really the point of me staying here, as opposed to moving in with my best friend in a city i'm familiar with with nothing but my clothes and my laptop? other than i'm horrible at leaving people? THERE IS NO POINT. and he knows this, which i'm sure is the only reason he came up with the dining room plan in the first place. so i went with it. there were up sides to it, which i could see. ok, so that settled, let's move on to this morning.
this all should go into quotes (but i'm too lazy):
i'm thinking the rent is too much.
we probably won't get it.
i don't think we can pass the application.
is it too much house?
what the fuck is "too much house"? you have to understand he grew up in one house that is about the size of a large apartment. cluttered, old, tiny. one bathroom.
i grew up in the biggest houses my parents could afford. new, spartan, airy, huge. never enough room. never enough space between you and the next person. there were houses i had the wing of. times i could go for days without seeing my cat, only knowing it was still alive by the food and drink it took. except for meals, i could go days without seeing anything more than a note from my parents.
we have too much stuff. that concept i get.but too much house? does he want to be stuffed into a shoe box for the rest of his life? i'm purging as much stuff of mine that i can bear to part with, but it comes down to mostly old family related stuff that i just don't feel connected to anymore. there is still a lot of stuff i carefully collected or shopped for or that i made and am proud of that though i really don't want to look at it for a while, i can't get rid of it. that's what a garage is for. so you don't have to pay for storage fees. that's a bonus of getting a house.
too much yard? it's rocks. desert landscape. may actually be realistic enough to be a tortoise sanctuary. i would look into that, in that case. too much air inside with the vaulted ceiling in the living room? too many stairs? ack!
so i see this is how things are going to go. i think i'm done having an opinion or even visiting them. it's mostly his money, he should be the one to make the decision. it's simple to him. so i'll back off.
i get my check in the third week of this month. i'll take out the bus fare immediately and stash it away. then, by the time the end of the month rolls around, if shit isn't together, i can just leave. i refuse to humble myself a fourth month before the office staff getting an extension. (did i mention anything about social phobia?) and i'm not just rushing in to whatever shithole he finds at the last minute.
at that point, the basement of a friend and a spartan apartment to follow sound pretty good at the moment compared to that. despite the hated snow in the burgh.
i have to get over him. i can never get over anyone. unless they physically hurt me. i got over douchebag, eventually. i have to accept the fact that he doesn't love me anymore and his sexing me up is not a sign that love is still there. it's just a sign i still have a vagina. and i alway give in to him, because one time he said he loved me during sex and it got my hopes up. but it isn't going to happen.
he's home now, and i find my muse dried up. i'd like to stay on the computer, just to spite him. but sadly, passive aggressive isn't on the menu tonight.