iPod set to
Katrina and the Waves', Walking on Sunshine
Unbelievable. Un-Be-Lievable! This is the only word I
have for the state of things in my relationship with Monkey Wrench. I have to say that after all these
years I’ve finally decided that it’s not the relationship that matters, it’s
the relationship a guy thinks he’s in that matters. For example, I’m crazy about Monkey Wrench just as I was
before we broke up. But since
we’ve gotten back together I’ve had little time to worry about or even care if
I have food in my apartment, my laptop with me (he likes to work on it) or if
my plans leave any time for him.
I’ve also lost the interest to explain why I’m feeling or acting a
certain way. If I’m mad, I’m mad
and if I’m happy, I’m happy and he can just deal with it.
Results? Gold Star.
Last weekend he
started to back out of going to our friends’ dinner party. Earlier in the week he was excited
about seeing everyone, but after a twelve hour work day he didn’t think it
would be worth it to arrive late and be tired on top of that. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be at the
party that pissed me off and although I did feel annoyed that he’d changed his
plans on me the day of, in all honesty I was just in a mood. And since he was nice enough to offer a
proper reason for me to vent my emotions I gladly took him up on it. Well, after a number of academically
constructed text messages on my part—Fine, be that way; Choosing laundry over
dinner, how romantic; Whatever!—he magically appeared.
That night after
the party we did have a good time, but in all honesty I was pretty tired and
just nodded to most of what he was going on about until it was time to go to
sleep.
Then the next
day I got flowers and chocolate.
What?! Let me get this
straight. If I bitch up a storm
and ignore him I get rewarded?
Move over Pavlov’s dog…here I am and I’m ready for my treat!
This weekend
we’re leaving for a spa get-a-way.
I guess I’ll just have to make him carry all my crap, pay for everything
and tell him he should go to the gym more often. Maybe he thinks there’s a “chase” with me acting this
way. Or maybe he thinks I’m worth
more when I seem ready to walk out the door. Who knows? As a
good friend of mine always says, “Men...they’re nothing more than the pool boy
so don’t treat them like they’re the king unless you want a royal pain in the
ass!
So for now, I'm
walking pretty with my pool boy by my side.
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