My Brain is Crazy, so yeah, part two of apparently two
I’m so sorry to leave you hanging. Life got super busy, good busy, but oh baby busy.
Carrying on…
So, boyfriend, me going crazy, yadda yadda yadda. I am also suddenly a jealous person.
I have NEVER been a jealous person. Ever. Boyfriends, husbands could say whatever they wanted, ogled all they wanted because I never felt threatened somehow. Hell, the boys’ dad moved a woman into the house when I was eight months pregnant. His girlfriend. I was his very pregnant with his second son wife. I wasn’t jealous, pissed at his asshatness, but not jealous. She could have him. I didn’t care, didn’t bother me. Now, it does. Ack.
Seriously, this poor boyfriend can say a woman on TELEVISION is cute and I feel suddenly sad and jealous. What is this shit? She is a picture on the screen, who is probably cute, and who is not going to show up in the living room and steal the boyfriend away. He’s around lots of attractive women in real life, he’s still here by choice.
Sometimes, he is a very public ogler for the express reason to be funny and irritate me. So, OOOOHHHH LOOK AT THAT TALL HOT BLONDE!!!!!! Followed by a glance to see my face and a laugh to bring it back down. Always a goddamned blonde, I would observe. Always a tall blonde, who is nothing like me you ass hat, refiller of the douche bag, whore.
A few months ago I took a deep breath and had to share words with him that I feared. I had to tell him why the tall blonde thing wasn’t funny so much to me. His former wife was a tall blonde. I felt every time he noticed a tall blonde he was fetishizing her. I know, in my heart, that she was not a tall blonde Playboy bunny, she was a taller than me normal looking pretty woman. But my brain elevated her to this other level. Talking to him cleared that air. He said he did that about tall blonde women because he got a reaction to that more than anyone else…YEAH, I BET YOU DID. He said that yes, she was a completely normal person and that he didn’t realize I was going there with it. It helped, but oy, my brain still wants to do this.
Presents.
Holy fuck was Christmas a blast this year. He didn’t want to do presents, hates Christmas and the gotta buy attitude surrounding it. I love to give gifts and get them, thoughtful presents though, could have been handmade and cost a penny and I would love it. I got upset though that he didn’t want to, and then didn’t, do the present thing.
Because he once said that he loved buying gifts for his former wife.
I didn’t let that go. My brain kept is safe and repeated it constantly. He loved buying gifts for her, not me. I am not his wife, he is not on par with the husband I had for almost a decade. I get that, embrace it because of my own life and past. This is its own new emerging and growing relationship. But. Oy. I kept it and rolled it around. Again, talking. Crying. Feeling shameful for feeling this way, but mad that he could act that way.
If I have never felt competition with his former wife, these two things kind of did that. Not wholly, but enough.
Talking, talking, talking it out. Valentine’s Day and my birthday are getting celebrated. Commercialized to not, he had no idea I was feeling that way and never meant for THAT to come across.
I am also quite needy. Of his time, his attention, his words. Seriously, it’s a problem because I feel like a whiny little crybaby for no reason. Spending nearly every day with me is somehow not enough? Calling me every day, not enough? That is fucking crazy talk. The man is attentive and present. What is my problem, then?
I think it’s because he is pretty normal. I’ve never had pretty normal. I’ve always had partners who were obsessive and possessive. Someone who would drive through a blizzard to spend five minutes with me, possibly spending those five minutes criticizing and possibly wholly adoring me, but still just to be with me. This boyfriend, no. He will stay home in a blizzard, dangerous and all. He’ll call and talk to me, more than once if I’m huffy, but he will stay home. And I, yes, get huffy and pissy.
I want a man who knows when to put me first, and when to be smart and put himself first. It’s what I need to do better for myself. It’s what I think all of us should do to be healthy and happy. Then I got one. And now I’m irritated. Because I have never had normal. Obsessive, possessive, THIS I can do well. Normal makes me whiny and passive (hah! maybe not so much passive) aggressive.
I’m working on it. I’m trying. I could (and well, can still) feel when I was going into hyper sensitive mode and I kept asking WHY WHY WHY are you feeling so crazy?
My sister sensed it and asked me one day:
Do you have love or do you have baby?
Well, I know what my problem is. I am beginning to have love, good normal happy love.
Happy Valentine’s Day :)
Posted by Melissa on February 14th, 2008 under Boyfriendlies, Observations
February 14th, 2008 at 2:44 pm
Huh. I’m glad to know that I’m not alone wrt less than rational emotions, esp. of the green variety.
February 14th, 2008 at 2:46 pm
Hang in there. I did crazy-boyfriends for many a year before I found normal. It takes some adjusting to, but boy-oh-boy, is it worth it in the end.
February 14th, 2008 at 3:09 pm
Oh lady. Sending you hugs because I can SO relate. That’s how I felt with my hubby for the LONGEST time. And I’d take his little remarks as insults or jabs and internalize. Sounds like this is a whole new experience for you. But it also sounds like you are growing and learning more and more about yourself as a result. SO yeay you! That growing/learning shit is HARD.
February 18th, 2008 at 3:20 pm
I get way more jealous with my husband than I ever did with any other man I dated prior to him (though I don’t generally bother him with this; try to keep all jealous thoughts to myself).
And, along the same lines of what you said, I think it’s because he’s sane. And I’m used to obsessive crazy people.
My own father was a womanizer, a serial cheater, and a pathological liar. I think it’s because of this that I spent my early dating years (not very consciously) seeking out men who were obsessive and weird. Obsessive meant they were really obvious about their attachment to me. Weird meant it was unlikely it would be easy for them to find another woman to put up with them. Obsessive and weird meant, somehow, to my subconscious mind that these men wouldn’t cheat on me.
My husband, however, is sane and relatively normal. Even-tempered. Dependable.
Which sometimes makes me quite fearful he will leave.
Because I am weird in the head.