Been so long

since I've written. I've written in other places...then stopped that too.

Do I only blog when I'm having issues with the fellas in my life? Do I only blog to release from that shit? Maybe.

I'm in love right now...and it's causing me emotional and physical pain right now. I need to exercise this. NEED to.

I will be attempting to not contact him...until. When that "until" is, I don't know. He's on some "power trip" about the party who cares the least wins. If that's the game he's playing, then it's clear that it IS a game and I want no parts of it. I just need to let this feeling, this tie, this thing dissipate and move on.

I still have some of his stuff here. It's actually a good amount of stuff. He doesn't have a lot in the way of clothing, so a pair of jeans, a couple of work shirts, some undies and undershirts (I bought a few of those undershirts *sigh*) and socks (he has the ones I bought...and the mofo never even said thank you!) is a lot...

Wait. That helped. Yes, I bought them and put them in the drawer like nothing...but you know damn well what you brought here from your house and you know what you had. And those extra things...nope, you didn't have those. You never even intimated, subtly acknowledged them...just took it for granted.

back on track...I have some things at his place, a robe, travel kit toothbrush, phone charger, Carmex (a must no matter where I lay my head). It's nothing too major though my phone charger is a PITA to acquire again and my robe in my good, cold weather and travel robe (it has a hood).

This 'break-up' was honestly brewing and would have come anyway. I'd changed since he'd had a temper tantrum a few weeks ago. And every.week.it.was.something. That was old.

The problem is...the problem is with him. That is to say, one doesn't know there's a problem until suddenly he's exploding about some minor shit. THEN...he pulls out and enumerates about a buncha shit that either has nothing to do with you or was inconsequential at the time so he decided to save it up and make it something.

Oh...and is it my baggage that you equate chivalry/politeness with blows against your purported manhood? Is it my baggage that you feel some kind of way about opening a door for me because then, according to your experience, if you open/hold the door, you think that'll mean I expect you to pay my bills? WTF? That's called damage, man. Damage.
Shit, for me, that makes me feel like, "What the hell do I need you for?" I want to feel protected and feminine. And yes, wrong or right as it may be, my femininity is tied up in some of society's ancient mores of superficial social roles for men and women. If I'm carrying three bags and your hands are empty, it's not chauvanistic to think, expect, that you should help...hell, just offer. If I decline, then oh well. But it's the thought that goes forever, if you're not even asking? Nah. Hell, I'll get my carpentry, plumbing, electrician or auto mechanic skills on if I wanna, but then, I'd still like you to open my car or building door, hold out my chair and see me seated first.
Thank you for rubbing my feet though (even though your class counselor had to tell you to do it and it's a good thing!).

But then...I also have my need to "take care of"...it's a fuckin' weakness that can be my undoing...if I were to let it.

He had a procedure today. I was supposed to be with him for it and helping him after. We broke up on Sunday...or rather, I was un-girlfriended (via facebook, no less). I still would have taken him and seen him through it. Hell, maturity is...some things are beyond your personal shit.
Hell, I saw Robert through his knee surgery thing in '06, and at the time we weren't really together.


(continued...)