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He Makes Me So Mad!

July 19, 2017

Mr. Canada has this way of pissing me off. I often feel my heart beating faster and my blood pressure rising. I get exasperated and end up shouting and feeling anxious. It’s usually over some feminist or political issue. He takes a side, one he knows I will disagree with and convincingly argues that side with words crafted to antagonize me. Most of the time, he doesn’t really hold the opinion he is fiercely advocating. He just likes to get me all riled up.

“Why do you do this to me,” I yell at him, usually laughing at the same time. “You know, I don’t actually like getting all anxious and upset. I like being calm. I like my peace of mind and you get me riled up and angry and I feel like I have to defend humanity and shit.”

“I just like to hear you talk,” he said. “I like that you’re so passionate about things and I want to hear your explanations. I learn something, usually,” he said.

He also likes to fix things. A self-proclaimed problem-solver. Which means, sometimes he’s a terrible listener and when he thinks he has a solution or he’s just right about something, he’s relentless and won’t let things go. Like the gas can incident.

I was so mad at him. I was traveling from Louisiana to Oregon and I had found myself traveling a long, empty stretch of  highway with my fuel gauge falling dangerously close to the empty signal. Telling him this story, I told him of my intention to buy a gas can and keep extra gas with me at all times for the rest of the trip. Then I got stuck in Las Cruces with an inoperable key. He hounded me about getting a gas can over and over, even when I asked him to stop. I got so pissed at him one night, I didn’t speak to him the next day. In that moment, I wasn’t sure it was going to work out between us. Now, we call that The Great Gas Can Incident of 2017.

I’m getting better at reading his tells and knowing when he’s just messing with me. Sometimes I just ignore his attempts and tell him to fuck off. But he knows me so well, he knows what will set me off and he relishes in it.

And in his defense, while I find this habit annoying at best and anxiety-ridden at worst, I am usually laughing with him as I shout my arguments while walking the streets of Newberg.

But there’s one issue that really gets to me. A personal issue that I feel he is too harsh with me about. Yesterday I got so upset with him, I almost ended our conversation. It’s about my kids. Well, one of my kids. I don’t want to go into the issue because I’m honestly terrified that said kid will find and read this blog and be hurt or angry. (The blog reader experience was enough for me.) We’ll just call it, The Great Issue of Marie’s Kid.

Anyway, he’s always giving me shit about it. He thinks I should speak up and tell said kid how I feel. But I know better. I know I can’t. Or at least I’m too psychologically weak to. I don’t know. He tells me I’m afraid of my own child. He’s kinda right. But he doesn’t understand the dynamic. And he doesn’t get that sometimes you don’t mess with people’s lives and how they’re living them even when you strongly disagree. He doesn’t get the different dynamics that exist between mothers and daughters and sons. And I hate to present the card that non-parents hate to be presented with but…..he doesn’t have kids. He doesn’t get it.

Plus, he just doesn’t give two shits about what anybody says or thinks about him. Whereas I dread confrontation and tension with my children.

So, when I try to tell him about some incident or observation, he can’t help himself and he insists that I need to take action or speak up. Then I have to defend the very person I’m vending about. And it upsets me and makes me anxious. “I can’t talk to you about things if you’re going to pressure me to do what you think I should do,” I’ve told him.

Yesterday, he took a step farther by suggesting that when he was in said kid’s presence, he might just give said kid a piece of his mind. “No, you will not,” I said.

“Why?” he asked in his whiney, Mr. Bean voice. “Can’t two adults discuss any subject openly.”

“No, not when it’s my kids and I’ve asked you not to. If you love me, you will not do that.”

True to form he kept pushing.

“Ok. I’m not laughing anymore,” I said. “I’m really upset. I’m going to have to get off the phone if you’re going to continue.”

“Ok, ok…” he said. “I don’t want to upset you, baby. I never mean to make you anxious. I won’t bring it up again. I won’t push you.”

“Yeah, but you said that before,” I said.

“Yeah. Ok. I’m sorry, baby. I don’t like breaking my promises. I’ll do better. I’m really sorry.”

“Ok,” I said. “I accept your apology. Thank you for apologizing. I appreciate it.”

“Ok, then.” he said, begrudgingly subdued. “I love you baby.”

“I love you too. Now let’s talk about that position you said was your favorite. How come we haven’t done that very much? The one time we did, it was at my suggestion and you called me insatiable. I didn’t know what to make of that.”

 

“I don’t know,” he said. “I like to look at you.”

 

“See, how can I stay mad at you when you say cute things like that.”

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From → Rantings

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