I like to think I'm pretty enlightened. I like to believe that in a relationship, the men and the women are equally capable of causing conflict, or being a shit-disturber.
I also admit that I get raging PMS, mood swings especially, for one week a month, and although I try to keep track of it and control what comes out of my mouth that week, my loved ones suffer.
Yesterday, on our drive to work, we stopped at the store, and being how it was nearly payday, I was close to broke. I had a lot of expenses this week, namely the kids' registration fees because of those bastards at their school, and my new external hardrive, my birthday treat to myself.
I was a few dollars short for my purchase, and I turned to Gerry and asked if he wouldn't mind spotting me. No problem. We're back in the truck and Gerry remarks, "Is everything okay financially?" I looked back at him and said, "Yeah, I had a few things to pay for this week..you know that. How far do you expect me to stretch it?" He thinks for a minute. "Well, with all the talk of us moving in together lately, it concerns me. Are we going to able to get something that accomodates everybody?" (Eight people)
I start thinking about this. And start getting mad. Yes, I am close to broke. Yes, it's payday and no one's going to starve. But I'm also a single mom who's paying for and handling everything on her own! What does he think, that because he's the one who gives me the paycheck, he has the right to know everything I spend it on? I stewed on and on, and when we arrived at our construction site, I stalked off away from him without a backward glance.
Three hours later of the silent treatment from me and he noticed that something was up. "What's wrong, I know something's wrong." and so on and so on. I looked at him and glared the best way I know how, and I swear the man backed away. "Do I ask you what you spend your paychecks on? Do I EVER question you about what you do with your money? Do you think that because you're the one who writes out my paycheck, you have the RIGHT to tell me what to do with it? WE DON'T LIVE TOGETHER YET." On and on I prattled until I thought he was going to kill me. "You're right, You're absolutely right, I won't ask again. I don't care anyway.." He yelled, then stomped off.
I continued working, then regret starts to tear at me. I spent the rest of the afternoon alternating between fighting off tears and trying to make nice with Gerry, who by this time was probably questioning my sanity. "I just asked, Tobi, I wasn't trying to belittle you. You're right, it's none of my business. But if we're going to move in together we have to think of how we're going to budget and make this work." We talked a little more and reached a truce, and then everything was okay again, but I could still see him eyeing me warily. Later on I was checking our worklist in the planner and it occurred to me; this is the week before I'm due. Thank god he didn't ask me that annoying guy question "What's the matter, you on your period or something?" or I might have hurt him. Unlike me, he knows how to control what's coming out of his mouth. And give me a raise. Smart man. I'm off to take my meds now!
No comments:
Post a Comment