I am Not Lost

On the surface, he’s a decent person, I guess.

I don’t really believe that for a second.  A decent person would not treat you the way he does.  Disrespect me, sure.  But he doesn’t respect you.  Or any woman.  I don’t think he’d hurt you physically.  There are so many better ways to hurt a person that don’t even leave a mark.

He drains you financially.  And me, because I’m your roommate and I have to take extra days and fight for every sale to try to pay for the three people who live in this house.  Three people using utilities.  Three people showering.  Three people making dinner.  One person getting a free ride.

Why does he get a free ride?  He isn’t good to you.  He doesn’t try to make your life any easier.  He has never done anything he said he’d do.

And all this time of his not helping you, he’s putting the strain on me.  I have to pay for half of the rent and half of the utilities while he pays nothing.  He’s useless!

I wish he wasn’t around when you’re not here.  I wish he didn’t park his ugly car in the driveway, making sure I can’t park there.

I’ve kept my mouth shut because the last time I brought it up, it made you angry.  And you should have been angry.  But not at me.  You should have been angry at him.  He’s made nothing better, only harder.

He’s no better than your ex.  Your ex made you pay half the rent on an apartment you were no longer living in.  So his fuckbuddy could live there free.  Your current boyfriend is the same.  He’s making you pay for a house you share.

I can’t respect him.  He’s a total prick.  He’s exactly the kind of broken stray you’d pick up to save but you can’t fix him because he doesn’t think he’s broken.

That’s why I hate your useless boyfriend.  He’s been here for a long time without paying and I’m tired of footing the bill for his inability to be a good person.

I mean, I get why you’d want him under your supervision constantly.  He thinks of himself what you do:  that he’s some kind of ladies man.

No one should have to put up with his abuse.  I for one am tired of it.

Celebrate.

I was holding him standing over the sink, his hair tied back roughly, and I put my hand on his back.

“How you doing?” I asked.

“Debbie?”

“Yeah, no.”

“Miranda?”

“There ya go.”

I have never met Debbie, nor even seen a picture of her.  And I hate her.  Maybe I hate her because he loved her once.  Maybe I hate her because part of me is afraid he still does.

All I know of her is what he’s told me.  She used to hit him, not like the playful way I do.  Not like when we wrestle.  I’m talking balled fist punching.  She followed him out to California.  She cheated on him.  She broke up with him.  She hurt him.

I hate her.  I would never do those things to anyone, let alone him.  It’s pathetic, but I love him.  I would rather become Christian than hurt him.

So, every time he mentions her, I get mad.  He doesn’t know.  I think I hide it well.  But it pisses me off.  I hear her name and I want to buy a ticket to California, find her house, knock on her door and, when she answers, PUNCH HER IN THE FACE.

I want to grab her by her shoulders and shake her and say, “How could you do that?  What kind of person are you?  You had this wonderful person in your life and you destroyed him!  Here is this rare diamond in a field of shit and you ground him up for fertilizer!”

And then, on the other hand, I want to thank her.  Because if she hadn’t ruined his life, he would not have come back to Texas.  I would NEVER have met him.  And I still hate her, but I’m grateful too.

Even if this turns out badly.  Even if it ends.  I love him.  He makes me want to finish my books, to enjoy the things I’m good at and try to make the best of a job I hate.

He doesn’t know that he’s diamond.  I asked for a knight in shining armor.  I got a musician in acid-washed jeans.  I never can believe my good luck.  

It’s weird.  My first few boyfriends were practice, I guess, but what I learned from them was that good actors make bad partners, artists are happy to be losers, and martial artists, while physically fit, are boring.  So, you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince, right?

I had all but given up on finding anyone worth spending a moment of my time on.  I went on a few dates, though they went well, they were not…well…perhaps I was the only one counting them as dates.  An impromptu trip to Houston to see Coheed and Cambria might not be considered a date, but I had a damn good time and bought a concert tee that actually fit me.  All is good.

I don’t know how this is going to end, although part of me wants to be pessimistic and say that it will end horribly.  This is going to go spectacularly wrong and I will end up hurting him or he’ll damage me beyond repair.

I don’t want it to end, however.  At the moment, I am dancing.  I feel happy.  I don’t hate anything right now—except gas prices—and I make it through the most boring days at work remembering his touch…

I am terrified he will change his mind.  I know he feels the same.  He doesn’t have to.  I am certain that I want him for the long term.  I have forgiven him when he fell asleep through plans we’d barely made.  I have been forgiven for my lousy taste in movies, my inability to drink beer no matter how hard I try, my being a martial artist, and the fact that I’m kind of boring.

He said he was screwed when I found out how much hotter I am than he is.  He said he was jealous of himself.

He doesn’t know that I’m afraid he’ll change his mind.  I’m afraid he’ll leave.  He’ll think I’m only with him for…some stupid reason that isn’t true..and cut and run.  He doesn’t know that I don’t deserve someone like him.  He may wish he was Sith, but I know he’s Jedi.  I don’t want to hurt him.  At all.  Ever.

So, he’s afraid I will wake up one day and think he’s not hot.  And I know one day he’ll leave.

But for now….we’ve gone to scary movies and gotten into barfights and had epic battles in Walmart and in his home, played beer pong badly, and if I can swing it, I shall be dragging him out to a haunted house instead of our usual big ass beer night.  For now, he has seen nearly all of me, and I most of him, and we still want to see more….so we’re doing something right.