It never occurred to me that having JDawg here might cause weirdness past the old issues. But here’s the thing: I used to be a clingy chick. The one who didn’t want him going out with friends cuz I’d be home, alone, and what would I do then? The one who’d tag along, hanging out with friends, and make sweeping statements as to his level of intoxication and the embarrassment that it might have been causing me.
But I’ve changed.
I got really used to settling down after Isobel went to bed with a book or a movie. Or chatting on msn and blogging. Or doing laundry while reading posts and eating dinner. I got used to the silence and to being solitary.
Enter JDawg the Thursday before last. And his stuff. And his breathing and heavier-than-I smoking and leaving dishes in other places than where I do. And the snoring and flailing during sleep. And his sex drive. And I’m just like…
HOLY FUCK, I NEED OUT.
Sort of.
Things have been going well. We started a bit of a fight and within a semi normal amount of time he agreed to being a dick and apologized and I dropped it. Those things never happen with us. It’s progress. But this is the first night in what, a week, where I’ve felt like I had some time to myself. Not like I had to ignore him (or her) to get it.
And god, do I feel kinda selfish and perplexed for this even being an issue. Cuz this is so the opposite of who I always was.
But tonight, he’s out with the boys and asked me if I wanted him to come home and I was just like, ah, whatever. And he’s gotta work tomorrow morning and at this very moment, it seems as though I’d like him to crash at his friends and just go right to work.
So I can have the bed all to myself, again.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a non-sleeping child to ignore yell at drug attend to and a movie to watch all by myself. And what else do I plan on doing tonight?
Not. One. Fucking. Thing.
PS. Stay tuned tomorrow. For the glaring evidence of my root beer addiction. Teaser: there’s side-boob.
