My life MUST get better after all that has been going on:
I still haven’t found a permanent job (even though I am determined not to work full time for long and eventually have my home business be my income) but I need one to stablize my income and save to build capital.
I am drifting farther from my mother, who seems to need me more and more lately. She calls all the time wanting help from me and I don’t want to disappoint her. She’s got her heart set on a manufactured double wide mobile home (but brand new and pretty impressive for a trailer) and can barely afford but might be able to, “Once I sell my house”. Well, apart from me helping clean her bedroom a week ago–she hasn’t cleaned or fixed up one iota of her existing house–which is in pretty significant disrepair and is JAM-PACKED to the gills with clutter. She claims she’s not physically able to, so I’ve been over a couple times to help her get her shit together so she can move out of the house (which she hasn’t even had anyone look at yet) and into the new place that she has huge plans for, even so far as gone and drawn out a blueprint of where all her stuff’s going to go and how she’ll decorate it but hasn’t even made an offer on (although three others did this past weekend). She’ll be lucky to get a fair price on the old house, thinks it’s worth what the appraiser gave her three years ago for a re-finance but everyone knows that appraisers always go higher than what they think a house will ever realistically sell for. She says “but my bank has me pre-approved for a loan up to $50k if I need it and that will only be a 15-year term” I don’t know how to tell mom, but she just turned sixty and she might never see the last payment through, I’ll be damned if I have to get stuck with it.
Then after some time of starting to believe my fiancee was just getting to be a bigger loser every day, I’ve been proven right. Non-stop he bitches about me not wanting to take just ANY job, just “Go out and work at Burger King or the Video Store, something, anything, why are you being so picky?” and I say I don’t want my resume looking like yours, jumping all over to so many kinds of jobs and that I’m on a specific path and at least want to get a job that I went to school for and have my ten years of experience, pointing out that while I’m job hunting I AM TEMPING right now, often I am working 3 weeks out of the month, isn’t that enough for you? Besides, my temping helps us financially and I’m still going on interviews while I work! His response to that? “Why are you so proud? I have a job that isn’t that great, and you know what? If I were in your shoes, I could go out there, and in one day I guarantee you that I could walk in to some place and get a job that day.” To which I say that the job he has now HE PICKED, APPLIED TO and WANTED TO GET because he hated the one he had before, and secondly, that he’s a man and men can act all cocky and even retarded and somehow still wind up with a job if they bullshit someone enough to hand it to them, and third, It’s fucking SUNDAY NIGHT, why are you fucking giving me grief right NOW? it’s not like I can go out and find a job now you sonofabitch.
Besides, the days of donning a suit, going downtown to stomp the pavement, and running in to a random office asking for a job are OVER. I paid my dues at the beginning of my career when releiving receptionists and it’s common knowledge that when someone walks in and goes up the front desk asking if the company’s hiring, you either always tell them no or hand them an application in case ’something opens up’ and send them on their way. Then all the other girls come over to the desk asking “Who was that?” and you shrug your shoulders and then you all share a chuckle about such desperation.
Ever since we met he’s been feeding me all this intentions to pursue his dreams of “being financially independent and wealthy and not working for anyone but himself” yet he’s never lived on his own and taken care of himself, he’s hardly able to wake himself in time to go to work every day (because that’s what I’m there for, apparently) and bitches that I’m always home using the compuer when he wants to, “to do research and work on our business” (it’s my computer, btw) and then when he does get on the computer he actually is just fucking around, surfing porn and posting his life away yelling at liberals on some crappy message board. All this has basically just proven to me that he’s a pipe dreamer, a George Bailey if you will, talking all day about mountains but living a molehill. If that’s not enough he had the nerve last winter to tell me he wants to date other people and “he doesn’t want to be tied down getting married and having to own a home,” and shit saying he wants to go to Burning Man and OzzFest and Sturgis and stuff every year and he regrets never having spent any time ’sowing his wild oats, being single and partying and being promiscuous’ and whatnot, then just before Christmas he comes over with a carload of presents for his family and mine, is beaming and saying he’s sorry and we’ll work things out…having money again…that’s what obviously keeps him happy. Naturally most people are, indeed, happier when they have less financial stress…however, we are so different, class-wise and probably never will agree about anything.
I also can’t believe I let him grow on me to a point where I used to LIVE day to day just for him, every moment thinking about mostly him, caring for him, considering him before me, taking care of his every need, being a listener, being a friend and everything. I found a lame ass diary that he’s kept since we moved into this apartment in April and he writes about how he’s depressed that he’s not dating often, that he hates living in the ghetto in this apartment (he wanted it more than I did) and then there’s the part he wrote about back when I first lost my job and he had spent many months helping out financially (which I always credit him for) while I, along with MANY Americans tried to find work that wasn’t out there because of the economy being poor. He writes in a recent entry “I think getting financially involved with her was my first mistake. When she lost her job I should have just said, ‘I wish I could help, but I’m saving.’ I was under no obligation then, like I am now, well I’m really not–but my name is on the lease this time” and “…I’m sick of being stuck in a relationship and I have this need to be considered attractive to cute women, I’m sick of being only attractive enough for fatty’s with problems….”
No, asshole, your first mistake was falling in love with me after 2-1/2 weeks of being together, crying about how you were in love with me but not fully realizing the weight of asking me to marry you almost two Novembers ago after admitting to feeling “scared about the future of the world” and wanting to also have kids or at least freeze some sperm so you could “leave some kind of legacy behind” (a legacy? LOL! of what? of being a narcissistic asshole, with huge plans and not one accomplishment? I can’t fucking believe I didn’t realize the selfishness of that statement back when you made it). Also I’m not a ‘fatty with problems’. Your last girlfriend was, according your stories of her mistreating you in front of your friends and then lying about being pregnant to get you to stay with her instead of leaving like you should have. I don’t have ‘problems’, you do. YOU’RE the one who approached ME back before we dated. YOU’RE the one who didn’t mention right UP FRONT that you wanted to be a perverted, cheating, filandering pig, keeping your bride-to-be at home all the time picking your dirty underwear off the floor, and meanwhile you’re out wondering if the 19 year old girls at work are attracted to you, and tell a girl you want to marry her and have a dozen children only because you’re selfish enough to believe they’ll be grateful to your silly ass after leaving them like your dad left you and still forgive you once they read the journal you kept around “for the sake of posterity” but is instead loaded up with sorry gripes and moans about your “depressing situation”. Poor you. Sit on it.
Looking back, I noticed you were really only happy when I was working, keeping the house up, picking up after you (dirty socks and shorts and all), but bitched about me not having a permanent job and then when I got interviews, had the nerve to tell me what a pain in the ass you think it is to have to drive me to ONE OF THEM, because “the muffler might fall off, and then how am I getting to work?” Gee, hon, you told me a week ago when I ASKED NICELY that you would give me a ride, plus…um, didn’t that car of yours have a muffler problem back when YOU BOUGHT IT?! And uh…how come you haven’t fixed it in ummm….OVER A YEAR? And um… after we moved out of my old apartment weren’t you supposed to be taking care of YOURSELF back then? Or was I responsible for keeping everything tidy for you while you were living with your dad and I was living TWO TOWNS AWAY at my moms? You even had the gall to bitch to me about a day you were late for work (when you were living with your dad and I was at mom’s) because I forgot to call to wake you that weekend that your dad & Kari were out of town. Um…didn’t I buy you an alarm clock? Yeah, at Wal*Mart, the one who’s box said “Loudest on the market!”?
Okay. Enough.
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I called my sister for advice but her hubby said she went to a candle party, my mom is coming back home from being out of town and was hoping I’d come over to help, so I’ve called one of my girl friends who said she will come get me when she’s finished running an errand, and said she has Southern Comfort at her place.
All this to mentally digest when all that’s going through my head right now is a verse from an stupid oldies song that I heard on the radio this morning:
Keep your mind on the drivin’Keep your hands on the wheel,Keep your snoopy eyes on the road a-head,We’re havin’ fun, sittin’ in the back-seat,
Kissin’ and a-huggin’ with Fred.
Don’t get me wrong, I know WHAT to do, either he’s going or I’m going but I can’t figure exactly which right now and I’m tempted to do something drastic but should really plot things out first.