(no subject)

Yesterday morning I woke up like I normally do, groggily trudging down the stairs to make my morning omelette and oatmeal. As I finished assembling my breakfast, I sat down at the dining room table and noticed that there was a pile of boxes next to me. Just glancing at the top box, I could see my copies of Michael Symon's “Five Ingredients” and Aaron Sanchez's “Mole” peeking out of the not-very-closed flap.

John, while I was working and/or visiting the local coffeehouses in the spirit of avoidance had been packing my shit for me.

Uh-uh. No.

I calmly waited until he was out of the shower and settled into his usual nook on the couch (I swear, there should be a permanent imprint of his ass on that cushion. Thank god it isn't memory foam.). I walked over to him, careful to keep my temper in check.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi!” he said, smiling.

“Don't do that.” I blurted out, pointing to the pile of boxes. I mean, Jesus, how was I supposed to find anything?

“Do what?” he asked, seeming confused, but coming from the man with the master Poker Face I couldn't tell whether or not he was acting.

I cleared things up and told him – clearer and more politely this time – to stop packing my shit. I added that he was going to have to be patient.

“I have been,” he responded. “But it's been over a month now. This has gone on long enough. We both have to get on with our lives.”

I stood there just staring at him in disbelief. I had no words. Did he seriously think that I could just magically pack up 6 years worth of shit and be gone in three weeks? Because that's how long it had been. Three weeks.

“You know,” I started, trying hard not to lose it. “this may come as a shock to you, but this isn't exactly easy for me.”

“I know that.” he acknowledged.

“YOU were the one who wanted this, not me!” I felt my voice grow louder and start to crack with the threat of tears.

“I know that too.” He nodded again.

WELL THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!, I wanted to shout.

Instead, I knew I had to maintain a modicum of cool if I didn't want to see this escalate into an all out War of The Roses shitshow of insults and destroyed property.

“Well don't you worry.” I mockingly assured, eyes narrowed in contempt, my vexation bleeding through my voice in spite of my vow for civility. “I'll be out of your life as fast as I can.”

“Okay,” he nodded and agreed as if I had told him I was going to the grocery store.

Douchebag. Fuck him.

( I hate this so much.... )

(no subject)

Sitting right now at the nerd bar. Despite John having subtly claimed this as his watering hole, I decided that;

A.) He was stationed at his usual couching position in his jammie pants when I left the house, so I knew he was in for the night.

B.) It's a public place, so fuck him.

It was a bit crowded as I made my way in the door, having secured a solitary table for my laptop and my thoughts.

The bartenders, who once served us both as a couple and had assumed we were married, gave me polite but knowing smiles and I knew instantly that he had told them during one of his visits on the weekends. The one I always suspected him of liking walked away to text and I had a paranoid thought that she was texting him, warning him that I was up here. I wanted to shake it off, but my spidey-sense told me otherwise. No matter, I had every right to be here, my money is just as green as his.The other bartender talked to me like she normally did, but I noticed when she took my credit card for the tab she didn't question why my last name was different than his. She had always called us “The Colemans”, and we had never corrected her.

He's such a dick.

I grabbed my cocktail, a tea-alcohol concoction called “Minerva's Nightcap” after the Harry Potter character. It was tasty, definitely made with tea. I situated myself into my little corner, opened my laptop and slid my earbuds on. This was my universal signal to say “Leave me alone, I'm busy”. Being a nerd bar, I don't have much to worry about with drunk idiots trying to pick me up. They're more interested in their D&D games or talking about Xbox or whatever. But just in case, you know?

It's Trivia Night, and the various teams are huddled around trying to guess the answers to the announcer's at times obscure references and questions.

I put my music on and drowned out the crowd around me.