I consider CW and I to have a pretty good relationship. I mean, we aren't perfect by any means, but we get along very well. Most days I miss him while we are apart, (yes, I hope you caught the "most" part, we will get to that soon) and we usually have a good time while we are together. He, for the most part, makes my heart happy. There really isn't another person in the world for me. In all my 25 years before he and I became a couple, I never saw myself with anyone else for the rest of my life. I'd try to force the idea upon myself, but in reality, it was never there. This, truly is there. I see myself as a wrinkled old ass lady yelling at him to turn up the TV because I can't hear it, (okay, I'm lying, this is me now, but I can see a wrinkled version of myself doing it too).
So anyway, Sunday night I fell asleep pretty early but CW didn't come to bed till like 5 hours after I did, so this like bugged the shit out of me, I know this because I woke up periodically throughout the night, as I always do (thank you ruiner of lives who fucked up my sleep for my entire life, pardon my angry moment). Then, the next morning as his alarm was going off he didn't hear it because he had drank the night before and was in a heavy sleep so I kicked him awake. (Yeah, real mature on my end, I know. I'm an asshole.) I was still pissed off, what can I say, I hate going to bed alone, especially 5 hours alone. Two, maybe even 3 hours would have been forgivable, but 5 is just.... WTF? Especially when I had called out to him after 3 hours and then again after 4 hours. He knows I have nightmares on a pretty regular basis and if obviously I'm half asleep calling out searching for his ass, then it's probably a bad night, yet he still continued whatever he was doing. So yeah, I woke up in a kind of bad mood but I still was talking to him because I felt bad for kicking him awake.
Then I asked him a question about the wording of something, for those who know, my bipolar medication makes my memory foggy and things take a while to come to me. It's very frustrating on my end, but if what it takes for me to be a little more even is a little memory loss, then by all means, who the fuck am I? Anyway, he wasn't very helpful and I was frustrated already because I couldn't remember a simple ass word and I told him he sucked and he got all huffy with me and said that I told him he wasn't as important as The Bloggess and I was like WTF??? But since he's always running late for work, I couldn't even argue with him so I was like whatever. So he just said "I love you." and then left without kissing me goodbye. Now this is where I am angry. Yes, he may have said, I love you, but he didn't kiss me goodbye. What if something shitty would have happened yesterday like I had a heart attack or a helicopter crashed into the house or some other fucked up scenario and he didn't kiss me goodbye??? Or something would have happened to him? Then I would have never had that last kiss goodbye. So I was like FUCK YOU after that.
I started to calm down later on during the day, I half expected an apology text or call sometime during the day, but that never came, so I was like, well, maybe he'll come home with an apology Star Fucks drink or something, but NOPE. Not one fucking thing. He walked into the house like nothing fucking happened. He tried to give me a kiss, but that pissed me off all over again. Like, double time. Try to act like everything was fucking normal. WHAT. THE. FUCK. I was like completely happy up until that point too, sewing on my happy machine and shit.
So as he tried to kiss me hello I pulled away and said, "NOW, you wanna kiss me?" and scoffed. So he walked away. I didn't really talk to him much, during Jeopardy! he apologized for his actions that morning and I said , "yeah" (again, I'm an asshole) then he said, "That's all you're gonna say is 'yeah'?" and I said, "what do you want me to say, CW?" and he said, "That you forgive me." so I said, "ok, I forgive you." In the most dry tone in the world, (again, I repeat, I am an asshole, not only a term for men).
It just really bothers me that I have to sit here all day and worry about what bad shit is going to possibly happen that I may not be able to kiss the love of my life again, I know that it's a stupid fucking thing to worry about, I know this, I'm not completely braindead. Yet, it's something I will always do. It's like asking the world to fuck with you when you do something like that. Something shitty always happens to me. Like, I painted my cousin a painting he'd been asking for, for like 3 years, I saw him the day after I painted it, I had like 2 months before his birthday before I was going to be able to give it to him, I wanted to tell him about it, but it was a surprise, I didn't say shit to him. Later that night he died from alcohol poisoning thinking that no one loved him and he never knew about the painting that I did just for him, BTW he would be my age today had he not died 3 years ago. Then 12 years before that I was sick with a stupid cold so I didn't visit my grandpa so I didn't get him or my grandma sick and then he fucking dies on me before I was able to say goodbye. It's shit like that that scares the fuck out of me and makes it so that I have these fucking fears of losing people when you do fucked up shit like NOT KISSING SOMEONE GOODBYE WHEN YOU LEAVE FOR WORK.
I know it may be trivial for some people, but I'm bipolar, so I'm blaming that.