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Esme vs. Daughter

25 Jul

As you may have guessed from the title, things got worse.

Loverboy and I finally had to agree to not talk about Daughter.  Why?  Well, read on.

He came home from work the other day.  I was at his house since I had both sets of children, so I figured I would make a nice home-cooked meal.  L walks in the door, sunny and happy, until he realizes Daughter is home.  Like someone flipped a switch, he became sullen, grumpy, and reserved.  Basically, a shit to be around.

During dinner, the two of them started getting into it.  I finished my meal, and shooed the other kids out of the dining room.  A few minutes later, L comes storming out, throws his plate in the sink, and follows Daughter down the stairs into her basement dwelling.

An hour passes.

L finally emerged, and is pulling the fake happy off with everyone.  I am sure everyone knows what that is-it is obnoxious, annoying, irritating, and any other negative -ing adjective you can think of.  I ask to speak with him upstairs, and I let some more of what is bothering me off of my chest.

I informed him that every time his daughter is around, his disposition changes dramatically.  My kids ask about it, his kids ask about it. He treats everyone different.  He won’t hug or kiss me when she is around (but will in front of his younger kids).  He barely talks to me when she is around.  He doesn’t smile.  Get the idea?  He is letting his 21-year-old run his emotions.

L then told me that he doesn’t know how to take what I have said, and that his attitude doesn’t change.  I reiterated it does indeed change.  He said it bothers him when I talk about Daughter.  He said he knows she has issues, he knows she is a loser, but he will never turn his back on her, and she will always have a place to live.  He said he doesn’t want me to bring it up again.

I looked at him for a minute, and said OK.  I was totally thrown by his last comment, because he always asks for advice.  I always tell him that she isn’t my daughter, so I can’t say.

Several days ago he brought up us moving in together.  I told him that until he and his daughter fix whatever they have going on, I won’t move in.  He seemed to accept it.  He knows I have become increasingly uncomfortable, and he told me then that she will always have a home with him.  So we all know I will never win this.  I don’t think I should even expect to.

Sorry, I know this post is kind of rambly.  I am just so torn and lost.

We have been talking about future stuff lately-never thought I would do that again!  Anyways-we have.  He wants a future with me.  He wants me to move in with him next year.  He wants me.  

So…stop me if I am wrong here…

I think at some point I should expect to be first.  I think for once he should focus on his happiness, and tell Daughter that if she can’t play ball, she can get her own fucking life instead of mooching off of him.  I am not saying to cut her out.  I am not saying to replace her.  I am simply saying that he should focus on Loverboy.

And, of course, I want to know that I mean enough to him that he stands up for me and/or fights for me.

He tells me often that I am so important to him.  And yet I now feel like limitations have been placed on our conversations.  On our relationship.  On our future.

To end the conversation, I told him that if he continues to let her call the shots, he is going to wind up a lonely old man, and it could be someday soon.

He reiterated how much I mean to him.  I shook my head, and walked out of the room.

I’m wondering if this can only end one way.

Love, Esme

 

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Epic Battle #1-One For Our Record Books

7 Jun

Two or three days after Loverboy commenced the Silent Treatment-I lost count while I was insanely flashing back-I got a call from L.  It was during the day, so I knew he was at work.  Hmm…not much conversation can happen while one is working…

L: Esme, hey.

E: Hey?

L: What are you up to?

E: Nothing?

L: How have you been?

How have I been??  Are you fucking kidding me??

I unleashed.  I told him how much he has hurt me the last few days.  Explained the dark place he sent me to.  How incredibly barbaric it was of him to Silent Treatment me when he knows my past.  In turn, he told me how much he was looking forward to that night with me.  How for six months he has been talking about me non-stop to his family, and he was so excited to show them this ‘amazing woman who wanted to date’ him.

Loverboy gave me pause.  Was this argument all about that?  The fact that he just really wanted to introduce me to his family, to ‘show me off’, so to speak?  Not that that revelation excused his behavior toward me the following days, but I am friends with enough dudes to know that the introduction of someone you are in love with is a huge fucking deal.

L got choked up, and asked if I could just come over that night to talk.  I agreed, as this conversation would be way more productive in person.

After the Silent Treatment started, I had walked around my house gathering up all of his shit, including everything he had ever given me.  Sooo…it is safe to say I was fucking pissed.  I grabbed the pile off of my kitchen table, and took it with me.  Why?  I’m not sure.  To let him know I was pissed?

When I walked in the door, I plopped the pile on his kitchen table.  L just looked at me.

E: This is all your shit that was at my house, and I am tired of looking at it.

Loverboy was rendered speechless.  After a minute or two, he crossed the kitchen and took me into his arms.  After a few seconds, I hugged him back.  And we stood in silence for several long moments and just hugged.  We needed that, it calmed us down.

We were able to have a very calm, rational discussion following that hug.  He explained that he was so upset at the situation, he could feel himself taking it out on me, which he didn’t want to do.  So in his weird male-hormoned brain, not talking to me made more sense.  I explained why he can’t give me the Silent Treatment.  I gave him an alternative-please just tell me you are angry at me or at a situation, and you need to calm down before we can discuss it rationally.  He agreed to be more forthcoming about his feelings, and I accepted what he said at face value.  Can I promise to not revert when Silent Treatment is given again?  Nope.  But I did promise that if he ever gave me the Silent Treatment again, he would never have to bother calling me.  EVER again.

For a few days we had an uneasy alliance.  You know those first few days after a major blowout and everyone is walking on egg shells?  We did that.  And one day, it was just all better.

The scare seemed to change Loverboy.  He is a lot more open with his feelings, often telling me how lucky he is, how great I am, how he loves me, etc.  He is more touchy-feely in front of family (before he would barely hold my hand).  The changes have definitely been positive, and make me feel much more appreciated.

We will see how it goes.

On the This shit only happens to me front…

I met Loverboy’s new neighbors the other day.  Neighbor caught sight of my firefighter plates on my vehicle, and inquired to where I work.  I told him, and he asked me if I knew Ambulance Guy.

Are you fucking kidding me??  Ambulance Guys brother moved in next door to my boyfriend?!?

I can just see this going down…

Ex-fuck buddy?  Meet boyfriend.  Boyfriend, meet the guy I’d probably be fucking if I hadn’t met you.

*facepalm*

Love, Esme

I Am Still Around

1 May

I have not been kidnapped by aliens. I have not won the lottery and ran away to Paris-I’d still blog about that shit! But I have been sidelined. sigh.

Once I started strength training at physical therapy, my shoulder became inflamed. Like back-on-pain-meds inflamed. Vomiting-where-I-stand inflamed. Capiche? Horri-fucking-ble inflamed Enough with dashes.

So I made an appointment with my surgeon, and I have once again been taken off all activity until further notice. I’ve already been sidelined since last July, and now this??? This just put back my recovery for at least another month. Where I was looking forward to working late July or early August, I now have no idea when I will be better. I’m guessing PT will probably have to start pretty much over. AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHH.

So what do I mean when I say all activity? No PT. No computer (this post is taking me forever to write on my phone, by the way. This is how much I love you.) No running, hiking, long walks. No rearranging my furniture. No Loverboy pushing me into a wall with my hands pinned above my head. No zombie 5k run/obstacle course. No laser tag. No bowling. No billiards. No swimming. Really, this list is extremely long. But you get the gist. I’m basically back on surgeon-imposed house arrest.

Loverboy, being the awesome person he is, has done his best to lift me out of my funk. I cried when the surgeon told me I had to stop doing things. I stayed in my house for two days, not taking phone calls, not communicating via Facebook. I’m not one to get depressed. I don’t think there is any point and purpose to it. Life punches, roll with it, adapt and overcome. But damn if I didn’t spiral into helplessness. And anyone who has been there, which is everyone at one time or another, knows the littlest things can make it worse. Loverboy had to cancel plans one night-oh Lordy, he wants to break up with me! My mom called to tell me my birthday present will be late-I knew my mom doesn’t love me! You know how it goes…

But I feel 99% better. In short, I’m just pissed at the setback.

Loverboy and I are still doing really well. He has recently starting opening up about his marriage, the helplessness and fear he felt following his divorce. His problems putting faith in people, even me. Yesterday, he talked for an hour straight. I just listened. I asked no questions, and offered no advice. When he was finished, I thanked him for telling his story. He gave me a better insight to him and his thought process.

Then, after that convo, we had one about M. M, you ask? Why would you talk about him?? Why indeed?

Because once again, he resurfaced. Mother-to-the-fucker.

I haven’t heard from this duchero for five or so weeks. Since a while before I actually wrote about it. Then the other day, while I was watching a Maury about cheating douchebags ironically enough, my phone chirps:
M: Are you still with old boy?
E: Are you still getting married?
M: LOL. Come over.

Fucking excuse me??

What followed in the next four hours was text after text of I miss yous and I need to hold yous and please just come see mes. I ignored a majority of the texts, only reiterating every so often that I wasn’t coming over.

My phone rang, and I saw M’s name on the screen. I almost ignored it, but I answered. Not nicely.

He told me everything he had been texting. Come over, I just want to lay with you, no sex, I just need this right now, etc etc etc. I told him that I will definitely not come over. That he needs to leave me alone before I contact his fiancée. That I no longer will jump when he calls. That he no longer is the one I will drop everything for.

M: Esme, please. I actually really need to talk to you. I have things I want to say.
E: So talk.
M: In person.
E: Then I will meet you at The Bar in an hour. I will give you thirty minutes.
M: No, at my house.
E: Do you think I’m on drugs? No way in fuck am I meeting you somewhere private.
M: I said no sex.
E: I wouldn’t put it past you to rape me.
M: Please.
E: NO!!

I told him again to leave me alone. That’s when my heart stopped-I heard the unmistakable sound of a car starting. When I stopped talking, M asked me if I was home. I told him no (I was). He said he didn’t believe me, and he was on his way. I told him no, then hung up the phone.

I called Loverboy in a panic. I think he could actually feel the fear in my voice. He told me to calm down, and go to his house for a little bit. So I did.

About a half hour later I got what I am hoping to be the last text ever. Fine. Goodbye.

What the hell happened here? Since when does the guy who claims he never chases, become a stalker? Why can’t he leave me the fuck alone? We tried dating twice. And both times he fucked it up. His loss is not my problem. Damn, did I dodge one hell of a bullet. And I got something so much better in return.

Needless to say, this recent turn of events has caused Loverboy to tell me that he worries about me. Worries that I will get taken advantage of (in more ways than one). That really made me wonder about my choice in past men. Yeah…I didn’t always make the best choices…

Love, Esme.

What Happened When I Said ‘IT’.

5 Apr

I finally said it. The ‘L’ word. I didn’t get quite the response I expected.

After an especially emotional lovemaking session, we were laying entangled in each others arms. I couldn’t hold it in anymore, so I blurted it out. Not very slick.

Loverboy stopped kissing my neck and said ‘what?’

I took a deep breath and repeated myself.

I love you. I do.

Loverboy smiled at me, a million dollar smile that I wish you could capture on film. Wow, he said. Wow.

Loverboy looked into my eyes for a long time, then fell asleep.

He never said it back, or has even acknowledged I said it since. He once told me that he never told his ex that he loved her, as he feels actions speak louder than worlds. But then again, he also said he never loved his ex. I think if I keep trying to probe his mind, I will go crazy.

So I said it, and I don’t regret it, because I do.

Right before he fell asleep, Loverboy told me that he wanted to take me to a ‘very nice dinner’ the following day. Turns out, he wound up sick the following day, and now I’m sick. So there hasn’t been much chance to talk about anything.

I’m not going to say it again. But now he can never say he doesn’t know how I feel. And in all honesty, I don’t want to hear it unless he 100% means it. This has been a learning journey for the both of us, and we are definitely learning as we go.

Love, Esme

Future Talk?

3 Apr

E: Holy crap, L!
L: What’s up, Babe?
E: A friend of mine has been dating this girl for three months.  THREE.  And he just got engaged to her.
L: And?
E: I don’t know, it just seems kind of fast.  But I guess when you know, you know.
L: And what do you know?
E: About what?
L: About me.
E: I would say…I know you are going to be in my life for a good part of my life.
L: 8smiling* Good.

Did we just discuss our future?

Love, Esme

Mini Freak-out Time?

20 Mar

L: Esme, I forgot to tell you something on the phone earlier.  I got that small dresser back from Son.
E: Awesome.  I know you said you wanted it back.
L: Well, it’s for you to put stuff in.
E: Why would I need a dresser at your place?
L: That way you have some things here if you decide to stay the night?  So you always have spare clothes?  To put things in that you may need.
E: *silence*
L: Look, I know it’s a big step.  But it feels right to me.
E: It is a big step.  A very big step.
L: I really miss you.
E: I really miss you, too.

And I do.  So very, very much.

Love, Esme

I’m Alive! But A Bit Broken…

17 Feb

I had my surgery, and once they were in there, the doctor found that the damage was more then he anticipated. He had to put metal anchors into my shoulder to stabilize everything. Once I woke up, the doctor told me that instead of starting physical therapy in two weeks, I had to wait four. That was not what I wanted to hear, but I accepted it. What else could I do?

After a night in the hospital, Loverboy took me home, and he and my fabulous mother took care of me around the clock. I could do nothing for myself. Nothing. As an independent woman, this killed me.

A week passed, and it was time for Fab Mom to head home. Loverboy came to check up on me every morning before work, and every night after. But for twelve plus hours, I was alone. My pain level hadn’t decreased, my range of motion wasn’t increased. But people had to get on with their life, and I understood that.

Do you think I laid on the couch hour after hour like I was supposed to? Of course not.

I really really wanted a shower. Really bad. I called Loverboy at work, and asked him to come by after work to help me. Esme, he said, tonight is the one night I can’t. Remember I told you that Son has a basketball game? Well shit…was I supposed to remember that during a narcotic-induced haze? Probably…

Once a thought is in my mind, not much can derail it. I hoisted myself off the couch, painfully got myself undressed, and took a shower. While I was in the shower, I twisted my arm the wrong way. Holy Fucking Shit. I got out, air-dried because it hurt too much to towel myself off, and crawled back to my spot on the couch. After a while, the pain was worse, I needed meds I couldn’t reach, I needed ice for my ice machine for my shoulder, I couldn’t stop crying, and I could finally admit to myself I needed help. At ten at night, I dialed Loverboy.

Ten minutes later he and his son were at my house, packing up everything I would need for the next week. They took me home with them, and I’ve been here ever since.

The next day loverboy took me to my doctor. I was given an injection of strong pain needs because that I was incredibly stupid and hard-headed pain continued to get worse overnight. I also found out that instead of starting therapy four weeks post-surgery, I now had to wait eight. EIGHT. As in two months. And not only that, I can’t lift my arm until then. So I still need help with EVERYTHING.

So I’m still at Loverboy’s. He has been amazing. Absolutely amazing. I’ve told him a couple of times to take me home so he can have a break. He doesn’t. Every morning he sets me up for the day. His daughter helps me before she leaves. When Loverboy comes home he feeds me, helps me with what I need. At night he gives me a shower and tucks me in. His boys are teaching me to play Call of Duty. We play board games, and I help them with homework. In all honesty, it couldn’t go any better. I just hate the fact I need the help. But they are all helping me without complaint, and with a smile.

I still have over a month until I get the all-clear to start therapy. Will Loverboy keep me here until then? I don’t know. But everything he does do, I appreciate more than anything. He has been an absolute Godsend. I truly lucked out with this guy. And I wish I could find a way to pay back all of it.

Yep, I love him. I am in love with Loverboy! I just wish I had the guts to tell him. Someday. As for right now, all he wants from me is to get better. And for once, I’m actually doing what I am supposed to be doing. Sitting on his couch with ice on my shoulder watching Maury…and nothing else.

Much love,
Esme