The universe obviously has a plan for me, and it’s this: I need to learn how to handle moody fuckers.
I married an MF. Within three weeks I knew he pissed me off, but it took me 16 years to actually move out. After all that, you’d think I’d at least know to steer clear, but no – within a year I was back with another moody fucker, and then another, and another…
So what’s the universe trying to tell me? With the first MF, I tried to talk about it. But there was no escaping the stuck-out bottom lip. With the second one, he was pretty easygoing except for the suicidal tendencies, which he medicated with random extra-relationship sex. With the current MF, sulks last for days and have all the inevitability of avalanches in the Andes – nothing, not logic, not kind words, not wheedling, can stop the piling of anger on jealousy on social anxiety until it all comes crashing in a heap on top of me.
I try ignoring it. I go up to my room in our shared flat and put some music on and get absorbed in a book. When I come down, he’s still in a funk. I try saying ‘hey, let’s just forget it and move on – tomorrow’s another day’. But he says he takes a day to even process how cross he is, never mind the time it takes to fully wallow in it.
I try talking – again – but we never seem to be able to sort it out. The discussion moves from whatever awful thing started it, to similar awful things over the last two years, to what I had for breakfast yesterday ‘You can’t remember whether you had weetbix or muesli! Then how can I trust you when you say you don’t want to screw the plumber!’
I try to leave sometimes, but when I see his sad, furry little face I can’t do it to him. I kinda wish he would do it to me. I’d be miserable, but it’d pass. We’re so scared of being alone, aren’t we.
I guess you could say that I’m not good for people with mental illness. They think I’m going to be great, serene and easygoing as I am. But something about me brings out their worst episodes. The worst of it is, that the one time I had a lovely boyfriend with unadulterated mental health, I had to dump him because I wasn’t in love . So maybe I’m the one with the problem.