Sins of Convenience.

i don’t want to be yours when someone else can be. i want to be yours when you won’t settle for anyone else.

Quite so, Mr. Dobbs, quite so.

Now, see, I should have written this last Friday when I was all righteously indignant and vaguely amused. Yesterday I was fiercely protective and hardly conflicted at all. Today? Enh. Spent two hours at the Humane Society, so mostly just tired. (Got headbutted in the face by a St. Bernard.)

The other weekend Andrew spent in Boston. He got home on the Sunday evening. The following week we saw each other Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. I can’t remember if we saw each other on the weekend, but then we hung out last evening, too. Right. This is how one detaches, you see. In addition, during the last week and a half or so, Andrew has been talking on and off about several projects, including gutters for the garage, sod for the backyard, breaking down the old shed door, and a ceiling fan for his bedroom. Oh, the ceiling fan. At least four days of intermittent talking about the ceiling fan. What size? Regular or ceiling hugger model? What colour? Chain controls or remote control? Would he need an electrician to do anything with the wiring? And links. Links to ceiling fans at Canadian Tire. Links to ceiling fans at Home Depot. Eventually I gave up and helped. I sent him contacts for lighting companies in the area. I even dropped by one of them to check out their wares because it was almost on my way home from work. And all the while I wanted to scream at him: I don’t give a flying fuck about ceiling fans!!! Or gutters, or doors, or any of that shit!!! It’s not my problem anymore!!! Because, of course, he doesn’t need me, you see. I also wanted to scream: How many conversations about goddamned ceiling fans have you had with Kasia?!?! Or, you know, how many times had he and Steve chatted about garage gutters over lunch? Like, fuck… does he save up this mundane shit just for me? I am fairly certain we’ve had intelligent conversations before. Interesting conversations, even! (Yes, I am aware of the fact that I did not just tell him to shut up. Why not? Enh. Habit, of course. Morbid curiosity about how long it would go on? )

And then there’s attending his birthday dinner with his family (which was a lovely evening). And then there’s automatically talking to me every morning when he gets in to work. Like… what the hell is going on? This isn’t a breakup for him. NOTHING’S CHANGED. Sure, I gave him back my key to his house, and we exchanged boring sex for no sex, but… what else? He doesn’t just have his cake and is eating it, too. He has a bakery. A whole bakery. And icing rosettes. He has no reason to miss me. He has no reason to learn how much he needs me. I haven’t given him any. Cuz frankly, if I’ve firmly established anything over the past five weeks, it’s that he really, really seems to need me, and really, really seems to have no idea.

And then, of course, came the ongoing work problems for him. And any frustrations about a continuing lack of equality in our relationship, and any feelings of being used went *poof* and I went into ultra-protective mode. Take care of him. Take care of him. Takecareofhim. *sigh* Talk to him, see how he’s doing, offer advice, try to cheer him up… The result? Dinner at Ben Thanh and The Dukes of Hazzard. Worked like a charm. Granted, one could say that that’s something any friend would do. Quite possibly. If only I was Any Friend.

And now, back to… what? Clearly, I need distance. I need something else to do. I need another focus. Thing is, I know myself. I alway have a male to focus on in my life. Yeah, sounds lame and unfeminist, but it’s not. It’s just me. Don’t know that I want another man right now. I mean, it’s not like it’d be hard to get one, but still…

Yeah, so anyway, that whole thing with the ceiling fans and the constant mundane conversational topics, it was a lot funnier last Friday, mostly because he is so insanely clueless and because it was driving me so ridiculously mental. Whee!

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