Another day, another petty argument.
This one was between two very stubborn individuals, the guy who accidentally hit the girl in the nose, and the girl who only needed a few moments before the pain went away before she was better. We were in his room, getting ready to watch a show with all the lights off, so there was no way he could see that my nose wasn’t bleeding or anything. Even after realizing I was fine, and recalling a time when I’ve had worse and my nose was actually bleeding from getting hit, he still insisted that I go to the bathroom and check myself out. I did, but the back-and-forth soured my mood for the rest of the evening.
It’s been said that if you’re fighting, you’re a compatible couple. I have to laugh at that, because sometimes those arguments and fights that couples have are pure drama, they serve no purpose other than to belittle the other partner. It’s all the unhappiness they feel normally, that they keep bottled up until something breaks, at which point they don’t care if they hurt their partner because they’ve been living with their own emotional pain. Somehow, I always find the love in my arguments with J. He wasn’t satisfied with me saying I felt fine, he wanted me to actually look and make sure that my nose wasn’t worse than I thought it was.
The problem always comes back around to being me. I should have just gotten up and checked my nose sooner, despite knowing myself well and knowing I was fine. Not only that, but all the pain I feel in regards to things between J and I, that’s all on me.
I don’t know if jealousy is an accurate description for what I feel when his ex comes to visit, or in general.
There is that voice in my head that reminds me of how I’m not friends with any of my exes, as if to tell me that I should be upset that he’s still close to his most recent ex. But then i think of Pete, who I don’t really classify as an ex because we weren’t in a romantic relationship. Pete and I are fairly good friends these days, and I’ve considered asking if he could spend a few days in January to visit me. I haven’t broached the subject, because I realize that while it would be “giving J a taste of his own medicine,” it could backfire in a number of ways, and I could be without two guy friends and be left with the constant reminder of my spiteful behavior. However, it could go positively, if I only think of it and treat it as a chance for a friend to visit and get away from his life for a while, and I show him the Asian stuff in the area that’s kept me going for the past year.
Speaking of the Asian stuff, it’s been a while since I’ve made omurice and okonomiyaki. Since omurice, or omelette rice, is simple and requires only a few everyday ingredients, I made it earlier this week. There are still other Japanese restaurants in the area I haven’t visited yet, and lately I’ve felt I should get back to taking myself out and writing about my experience as a whole. That was one of the things I used to write about here, I used to talk about Japan more, and wanting to go, and all the things I can experience over here. I never wrote about making miso soup for J, which I could have done. And at the thought of picking up where I left off with the Japanese restaurants, it doesn’t seem right to continue as I had always done, which is to say I was taking myself out to dinner. If I’m going out for Japanese food again, I want it to be with J.
But I realize that he doesn’t want me.
Well, I guess “realize” isn’t the right word, in the same way that one would realize water is wet. I could say that I’m “starting to believe,” like one would start to believe that their sand castle will withstand anything because they haven’t realized that water is also destructive. I guess I’m “leaning towards” that idea, and yes there could be nothing solid or firm there for me to lean on, and I could fall and hurt myself… because I’m dumb.
Oh, let me explain. The last time his ex was here, it was, “she (the ex) knows I’m joking,” and other things that made me feel like they were a team and I was odd man out. And when I made dinner, there were only ten rolled tacos, so I figured J could have the extra one but he split it two ways… and shared the other half with her, even though I would have liked it if it were split evenly among all three of us. When he played music, she swayed to the sound, enjoying every moment.
I can’t be her.
Not that I know how the music feels for her, but for me, it’s so much more. Lyrics are the words that are never said but often felt, the music itself conjuring up the scene of the story unfolding in a few short minutes. I can’t just sway to music, I need to perform it, I need to move my mouth and hands in such a way that I’m conveying the feeling of the song, because I feel it within me as if the words are my own and that is what I need to get out. There are a couple of songs that are personal and meaningful for me, because they make me think of my parents, and one will always make me cry. I can’t stop with, “that’s a good song,” because I get too passionate about some songs I hear. But maybe that’s all he wants, he just wants someone to sway to the music and simply be entertained, not someone like me who’s trying to figure out if he’s speaking through songs and who his heart and soul cry out to.
And there’s other ways I can’t be her. And I tell myself I should be good enough, or that I am. But then I realize that I’m nice to him in ways that don’t seem to matter as much, and I could be nicer at times when it seems more fun just to be a pain in the ass. I can’t simply show gratitude without coming off ungrateful first. And then I put myself in a mood I can’t easily shake, leaving J to wonder what’s wrong, but talking it over always comes back around to me being in the wrong and being dumb (not even in an abusive way, just reminding me that if I hadn’t said or done something a certain way, it wouldn’t have led to me overthinking a situation because nothing wrong would have happened), so lately it seems better to let my moods pass.
Although there is one advantage to knowing that I’m the problem, and that’s knowing I’m going to reject help and advice at a time when I know how things work for me. Yes, I’m sick, I came down with a cold yesterday. I texted J in the morning and told him I wasn’t feeling well, and that I’m not a whiny bitch when it comes to being sick. Basically I was telling him that I’m not the kind of girl, or person for that matter, who tucks themselves into bed and begs someone else to get them soup, get them tea, and basically wait on them hand and foot. I didn’t have to be told to take medicine, I found my antihistamines as soon as I could and took one. I drank tea and juice, and made myself soup for dinner. I left work halfway through the day because I had a headache that kept me from focusing on everything, and I didn’t think I could push through the last 4 hours of my day. I came home and took a nap, rolling out of bed when J got home from work, at which point I had more energy and felt more able to tolerate being around him.
My dinner was a mug of tea, a mug with chicken flavored instant ramen, and a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich on it. J had walked out to the kitchen around the time I was getting ready to carry everything out to the living room, at which point he offered to help me carry something. I’m not sure if being unwell caused me to get over myself, or if I was exhausted enough that I didn’t want to put up a fight, but I allowed him to carry my plate for me while I carried the two mugs, instead of insisting that I could take care of things by myself. He was rather nice to me yesterday, but again, it could be me being sick that I’m just being a bit kinder towards him.
“I’ll spare you from a kiss on the lips,” I said last night, before heading to my own room to sleep. After he questioned it, I reminded him that I was sick, something that I can obviously tell about myself even if it isn’t that apparent to anyone else. He, having an immune system I wish I had all my life, quickly pulled me close and gave me a peck on the lips.
He’s brave, that one. Kissing me when I’m contagious, dealing with my bullshit most days. I don’t want to let him go, but if he’s not into me romantically, we will have to go our separate ways one day.