Down the Rabbit Hole

After my trip to the hospital, I began harboring some serious feelings of resentment toward my husband and his callousness regarding my illness.  It really sucks hairy donkey balls to feel that sick – to think you might die – and not have the support of the person who is supposed to love you the most.  It is really hurtful.

I remember a few months later, Steve came down with a 24 hour stomach bug.  I remember him wanting me to wait on him hand & foot and telling me that no one has every felt as sick as he did right then.  Um, excuse me, douche bag… wasn’t I just in the hospital???  How can you say these things to me?  24 hours later, he felt fine and I was sick as a dog (this is usually what happens when he gets sick).  But, he couldn’t possibly wait on me… he might get sick again.

From 2002 – 2004, I was doing consulting work – good pay, but never a solid schedule or paycheck.  The work would ebb and flow, depending on the company’s priorities.  In 2004, I learned that my project was ending and started looking for a new job.  I found one, amazingly, that started the week after my project ended.  I went to work for The Company in July of 2004.  One week later, Steve went in for day surgery to have a small cyst removed from his chest.  He was supposed to go back to work the next day.  It feels like he never went back again.

Week after week, he would make some excuse for why he couldn’t go in to work.  He just didn’t feel well.  He stayed up too late.  Then, he began to complain about being depressed.  I told him to go to the doctor.  He went to our family doctor who told him he was probably depressed, and prescribed him anti-depressants.  I was really annoyed with all of the time he was missing from work.  He had missed so many days over the past few years, that he no longer had any sick time and was on “restricted sick leave,” which meant he had to get a doctor’s release EVERY time he missed a day.  So… he wasn’t bringing in any money.  We still owed his grandmother money.  I had a new job which paid consistently, but not very much.  I was drowning again.

Then one day I got a call at work.  Oh My God… I think I am going crazy.  I might kill myself.  He was sobbing.  He never cries.  My whole world took a nose dive down the rabbit hole.  I could feel my heart spinning out of control somewhere around my ankles.  I couldn’t breathe.  Steve went immediately to the psychiatrist who decided that between the family doctor and himself, they had misdiagnosed him.  He was not depressed.  He was bipolar.  Apparently, the anti-depressants alone sent him into a high manic state.  This is a very dangerous state to be in.  We worked with the doctors and the psychiatrists to find him a medication which would keep him balanced.  They told him he was a rapid-cycling bipolar, which meant that he would roller coaster from extremely manic to extremely depressed within a very short period of time.  It seemed like it would switch within hours (this is not typical of bipolar disorder).

I knew some of what to expect.  My mother is bipolar, and has been all of my life – not that she would tell you that.  But I had seen the extreme differences in mood.  I have a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology.  I have read a lot on the disorder, and witnessed a lot first hand.  But nothing prepared me for being the wife of a bipolar man.  One minute – Liz, you are the greatest person I have ever known.  I would be lost without you.  I love you so much.  Fast forward 12 hours – You are suffocating me!  I can’t stand to be around you!  It was a nightmare.  I was so emotionally destroyed that I ended up in therapy myself.  I never knew what to expect and was constantly walking on eggshells.  He was never physically abusive, by any means.  But, the emotional torment of such rapid-cycling emotions was pure hell.

Between July 2004 and January 2005, Steve worked 4 days.  And not consecutively, either.  This was ridiculously stressful because not only was he NOT earning an income… he was spending money like it was going out of style.  $350 for a pair of cowboy boots (he is neither a cowboy, nor a person who wore boots)… Clothes he didn’t wear.  Cars.  OMG don’t get me started on the cars!  That will have to be another post on it’s own.

I did my best to be supportive to the situation – whatever that was minute by minute.  People told me to leave him.  They told me that he was running me down.  Even my therapist to me to get the hell out and do not leave a forwarding address.  But I just couldn’t do that.  I loved him.  I hated seeing him in turmoil!

And then came the girls…

Moving on, but not up

After we were married, we lived in our apartment for about another year.  It was a pretty good year, as they go.  For Christmas, I heard through the grapevine that Steve had decided to surprise me with a new puppy.  I was thrilled by this, until I learned that the puppy was really a way of placating my desire to have children.  Blah.  But, the idea of getting a puppy for Christmas was thrilling anyway!  On Christmas Eve, Steve came home from work carrying a large wicker basket wrapped up in tinsel and holding our newest family member.  He says, “Surprise!  I got you a puppy for Christmas!  His name is Major Apawwhite – after UT’s quarterback… because he has one white paw – Get it??”  “You bought me a puppy for Christmas – and named it??”  Interesting.

Major was SUCH a cutie.  I fell in love with him immediately. 

The rest of our first year was pretty bland, until it came to our anniversary.  I found out several weeks before our anniversary that I was going to be laid off from my job due to it becoming automated.  Fuck.  We decided to move into my dad’s house with the intention of buying it once I finished my Master’s degree and landed another job.  Also, Steve ended up taking out a $10,000 loan from his grandmother behind my back.  I was really aggrevated.  I knew we needed it, but I do not like to be in debt to anyone – especially family.  That became a major source of friction between us.  His grandmother wanted to be paid back almost immediately, and that just wasn’t possible with me between jobs.

I completed my Master’s Degree in August 2002, and was asked to stay on as a consultant with the company where I interned.  That was pretty awesome.  But right about that time, Steve started to take a lot of sick time.  Now, he has always been a person who used his sick time as extra vacation days.  I have warned him that this is not a good thing.  But he began taking more than one day at a time, and before long was home for weeks at a time.  He wasn’t sick.  At least not in a physical sense.

This time became exponentially more volitile, as my dad was having us pay all of the bills on the house.  Neither Steve nor my dad were helping out, and I was drowning.  We ended up living there in that situation for nearly four years.  I found out about halfway through our stay that my father had stopped paying his mortgage.  Every day became a new torture… always wondering when they would foreclose on the house.  Not answering the door because you never knew when it would be the cops coming to serve an eviction notice.  My health was declining.  My marriage was deterorating rapidly.  I was miserable.

I landed in the hospital in January 2003 due to physical decline related to panic attacks.  I became physically ill around November 2002.  I felt nauseated and panicked all the time.  Around mid-December I thought… if I could just throw up… I would feel better.  So I did.  And once I did, I couldn’t stop.  By January, I had lost 15 pounds.  The last Saturday in January, I began throwing up non-stop and could barely move.  Steve insisted that I go to the ER that night, because the next day was Super Bowl Sunday, and he wasn’t going to take me during the Super Bowl.  So loving!  I ended up spending 6 hours in the ER, only to still be throwing up when I left.  The following Monday, I was in my regular doctor’s office, waiting to get a shot for the nausea.  By Friday, I had lost an additional 20 lbs.  I was so sick.  I ended up in the hospital for 5 days having every test known to man.  My potassium levels were so low, they were afraid I would die.  And where was Mr. Husband-of-the-Year?  Sitting in a chair in the corner – telling me to suck it up and get over it.

If anyone wants to buy a husband, I am thinking about putting him on eBay for bid.

 

A Beautiful, Romantic Getaway to… Colonial Williamsburg??

I was in the midst of graduate school when Steve and I got married, so we had to wait a few weeks after the wedding to go on our honeymoon.  We debated for months on where we should go.  I thought we should go somewhere fun and tropical.  He shot down every idea I threw out there.  My best friend’s mother gave us our honeymoon as a wedding present.  Well, she let us use their timeshare condo for a week, wherever we wanted to go.  It was a great gift.  But, we just couldn’t decide.  Or, he just wouldn’t agree with one of my fantastic ideas (this trend will continue for years).

So, we are looking through the condo book trying to pick a location when Steve stumbles upon Colonial Williamsburg.  I am like… What??  That sounds ridiculously lame.  I am not really into a lot of historical trips, especially after spending countless summers visiting Civil War battle fields, graveyards, and other less than fun experiences as we were drug along on my dad’s history vacations.  But, by this time, I was pretty worn down by the experience, so I finally relented.

So, two weeks after the wedding, we were dropped off at the airport at the butt crack of dawn to make our way to the east coast.  We had a layover in Atlanta, which is my least favorite airport on the planet, but whatever… at least it was short.  I will say this – When we got to Virginia, it is absolutely gorgeous.  We were there mid-May and it was just lovely.  We made the drive from Newport News to Williamsburg to find the condo.  It was a really nice, one-bedroom condo with a living room, dining room, and full kitchen.  We got settled in – which meant we went into separate rooms… and read our books.  Sooooo romantic [eye roll].

We were there for a week and literally went out just a few times.  We spent one full day at Colonial Willamsburg.  If you haven’t been to this place – the biggest freaks on Earth are located here.  They have people who live that lifestyle full time – no electricity, no knowledge of the outside world… weird.  Then there are people who stay in character, but are actually familiar with a TV.  But they won’t break character for anything.  We took the tours, pictures, the whole nine yards.  I was bored silly.  We also took a day trip to Jamestown, and another to Yorktown.  That was it.  The rest of the time was spent sleeping in and reading.  I think that was the only time I had ever seen Steve read a book.  That stands to this day.

A word of warning though… when taking pictures of your honeymoon condo… especially in bathrooms with mirrors… do not do that thing naked.  Just sayin’…

This begins a long history of really boring vacations together.

That Can’t Be A Good Sign…

About a year before our wedding, we attended the wedding of Steve’s good friends Tim & Mandy.  It was a nice wedding, and I ended up catching the bouquet.  Steve almost caught the garter, but someone came flying out of nowhere and snatched it from him.  Oh well.  As part of their table decorations, Mandy had a bunch of little bowls on each table with Beta fish (Siamese fighting fish).  We ended up taking one home with us.  We named our blue Beta Dave The Fish.  That was his full and proper name.  It was used exclusively.  Except when my 4 year old cousin, Lexie, would come over and call him “That fish David.”

So here’s the deal with Dave The Fish… he really hated Steve.  I am not sure why, but he just wasn’t a fan.  He was a blue fish, but when Steve would come home from work, he would turn bright red and start attacking the side of the bowl.  Weirdness.  Anyway, Dave The Fish was a good pet, as he didn’t really do anything and we kind of like that.  A word of warning though… if you are thinking of getting a Beta… they are the dirtiest animals I have ever seen and you have to clean the bowl almost constantly.  Blah.

So… fast forward a year later…

After we got married, we ended up staying the night at a hotel and my friends brought all of our gifts, food, cake, and stuff back to our apartment for us so we didn’t have to deal with it.  We came home the next day and noticed that once again, Dave The Fish’s bowl was pretty gross.  I grabbed one of the bowls from our wedding decorations, which had flowers in it, rinsed it out and transferred Dave The Fish into it while I cleaned his bowl.  Then we went about our business of opening gifts, snacking on leftover wedding food, and stuffing ourselves silly with cake.

Later that night, we were watching TV and Steve looked over and said, “Hey, something is wrong with Dave The Fish.  He is laying on the bottom of his bowl.  Fish don’t lay down, do they??”  Um, not if they are alive they don’t.  And there he was… Dave The Fish.  Laying dead and pale on the bottom of the bowl.  It must have been something left in the bowl from the flowers.  Or maybe Dave The Fish has secretly been hoping I wouldn’t marry Steve, and the shock killed him.  Or he took his own fishy life.  Who knows.

We looked at each other, both thinking the same thing – The fish died the day after our wedding… That can’t be a good sign…

Responding to Search Terms

I am going to take a quick break from my story to respond to search engine terms which have brought people to my blog.  I think some of them are funny, and would love to share.  Enjoy!

He says it hard to love you after 17 years – Well, my friend, he is a dick.  I know that this is a blog about a relationship crashing and burning at the end of a very short runway, but anyone who would say that to you is really just a jerk.  Time should have no bearing on love.  Behavior, on the other hand, is a different animal entirely.  Good luck to you.

littlemissobsessivexo… Little Miss Obsessive has been a loyal reader since the beginning of my blog (last month) and I think her blog is hella funny!  Check her out!  She even gave me a blog award!

i love you, but i am not in love with an – With an what???  An animal?  an asshole?  I don’t get it!  I hate when the search term cuts off!  Or did it…?  “I love you, but I am not IN love with you” sucks to hear every single time.  Kind of like, “I love you like a sister.”  Yeah, then stop sleeping with me, you weirdo. [shudder]

i love you but i am mad at you – It happens.  Try to work on communicating clearly, even when you are angry.  Focus on what is important.  Also, remember, if it isn’t meant to be, don’t kill yourself trying to work out something that will never work out.  Believe me – red flags burning in the night, and all that jazz.

I trust you because – Again, I don’t know if this one got cut out, or if it is a declarative like, “Because I said so.”  Trust is so important in a relationship.  When there is no trust, there is no relationship.  Believe me… it all goes downhill from there.  You have to be able to work through situations or know when to move on, or else you are creating a situation that is unhealthy for everyone involved.

how do I know if I am in love with my boyfriend- Well, I don’t think typing that question into a search engine will yield the results you are after.  Give it some time and feel it out.  You should want to be with that person all the time.  It SHOULD be reciprocated… There is a fine line between love & stalking.  Just sayin’…

Love and Trust completely- Good luck with that.  In relationships, we are two (or more if you are Hef) human beings trying to come together.  We will always have baggage (although some people bring a little overnight bag, while others are toting Imelda Marcos’ entire shoe collection) coming into the relationship.  It is how well we can make these things fit into the closet which will define us over time.

I love this one person but he doesn’t really like me – Cut and run, my friend.  Nothing good can come from that.

My guy likes to go out and not call me - Yeah, they all do that.  Setting expectations can help that.  Also not being with someone who is a lying, cheating bastard will help too.  Again, see trust.

Romance – Not in this blog, honey!  Oh, there have been attempts… but most have fallen under the heading “Operation This-Will-Not-End-Well”

Am I in Love- I don’t know.  I can’t imagine that you expect Google to respond with, “YES!  Jane Doe, you are, in fact, in love. And you have herpes.  Congratulations.  Here is a link to Valtrex.”  I think that we have gotten a little too involved with technology and a little too trusting in the information we will receive online.  Somethings, you will just have to feel.

a0m0y7.wordpress… Amy’s Blog.  Funny stuff!

Start of relationship told me its friends – Sometimes a relationship can start as friendship and will blossom into romantic love.  Most will not.  Be sure you can handle the situation and remain friends if it is the latter.

Date someone not in love with them – I assume this is usually the case with dating.

Bastard – And how!!

He slept with someone when we was just hanging out – Run away!

Silence is deafening in relationships  – It really can be.  Listen to that silence.

Why don’t my work friends ask me to hang out – It sounds like you might be a little needy?  Just a guess…

Anyway, I will resume blogging the demise of my marriage soon.

The Wedding of My Dreams… mostly

The week of our wedding was a stressful one.  I was working for a local hospital in their HR department and it was benefits open enrollment week.  I had already made arrangements to take the week off to prepare for the wedding, but I got roped into working the first day to help out.  My day began at 2 am when I arrived at the hospital, and didn’t leave until 2 pm.  I was totally stressed, as EVERYTHING that could have gone wrong – did.  After work, Steve and I went to the County Clerk’s office to obtain our marriage license.  After that, I slept for about 14 hours.  I was exhausted!!

The rest of the week was spent sorting out all the final details of the wedding.  I got to relax quite a bit, and watched Mr. Worrywort pace the floors waiting for his anxiety meds to kick in [eye roll].

Thursday night, I was supposed to go to Sam’s to pick up the brisket for the rehearsal dinner on Friday.  But we had been so busy running around, by the time we got there they were closed.  I was a little worried, so I called my best friend’s step dad (who was doing the cooking for us) and told him that I would have to get the meat in the morning.  He proceeded to chew me out that it was supposed to cook all night, he blamed Steve for not getting it for him, blah blah blah.  Needless to say, I was extremely upset.  I called my BFF and told her about the situation.  She chewed out her step dad for stressing me out and told me it was fine to get the food in the morning.

The day of the rehearsal dinner was ok.  I spent most of the day running errands with my BFF’s mom getting things ready for the party.  Steve was still on eggshells, but he was looking forward to the party.  One thing we did not agree on… the Grooms cake!  Oops… slipped into a quote from Steel Magnolias!  Actually, it was the bachelor party.  I was adament that if he was at a strip club the night before our wedding, there would be no wedding.  He thought I was being stupid.  Oh well.  Stupid wins.

The rehearsal dinner was great, sans rehearsal.  We had a cook out and everyone came to hang out and chill.  The plan was to have my bachelorette party (no strippers involved) at the same house as the dinner, and just the age-appropriate girls would stay.  Well… we kicked the guys out (they weren’t happy about it) and ALL the girls stayed.  And when I say “girls,” I mean my aunts… who were drunk.  One ex-aunt in particular was completely sloppy drunk and kept asking questions like, “Tell us about your fantasies.”  I just threw up thinking about it.  [shudder]  I responded, “My dream man is someone who washes the laundry… takes out the trash… does the dishes…”  hehe  So true.  So not the man I married.  Anyway, after several hours of this, we finally got the aunts to go home.  We had a slumber party and passed out.

The day of the wedding was hectic, but fun.  We went to the hair salon, nail salon (mimosas and kolachies in tow), and shoe store before heading over to the wedding/reception site.  We finally made it to the site to drop things off and I was horrified to see that instead of the round reception tables on one side and chairs and an alter on the other – there were round tables all the way up to the alter.  Come on people!!!  This is not dinner theater!  I don’t want people clinking iced tea glasses while I am getting married!!  It’s tacky!  fortunately, my awesome cousin was a large event coordinator for a hotel, so she whipped everyone into shape while I blissfully ignored everything going on around me to check out the rest of the space.  Everything else was perfect!!

We were starving so we ended up going out for lunch (up-dos and all).  We had a really good time (and a few drinks).  It seems my wedding party was bound and determined to get me drunk before my wedding.  Not happening, sisters!  My cousin Jean offered to drive me to Mexico.  Thanks, but no thanks.  I probably should have listened.  Oh well.

The only job I gave Steve the whole time was to find someone to officiate our ceremony.  We are not churchy people, so any JP would do.  He said he knew a guy that would do the trick.  Months earlier, his office had sent us over wedding vows to choose from, and we had selected some that were in between religious and typical J.P.  The first time I met the judge, was standing outside the bride’s room.  He seemed very nice.  He asked me what vows we wanted and I told him I had no idea (come on… it is my wedding day!  This is why we sent them to you 3 months ago!!).  He said, “It was probably this one [taped in his Bible], as it is the most popular.”  He read me a few lines and I said, “Hell No!”  This particular verbiage included something along the lines of, “Will you love her to the best of her usefulness?”  Stupid.  I told him I wanted the middle of the road vows.  He pulls out a legal-sized stack of green papers.  Oh yes… twice the size of the Bible he had them placed in.  Classy.

Then its time.  The music started… The bridesmaids descended the staircase… I get my cue.  Its time!!  I walk across the balcony trying not to look down.  I begin my trip down the stairs hoping that is just a figure of speech.  I see my dad, looking handsome in his tux… and red dog saloon suspenders [sigh - Oh dad!] and then I see a little glimmer of white behind him.  My flower girl, Lexie [age 4] was standing behind my dad, sobbing.  When I got to the bottom, dad explained that when she went down the stairs and everyone turned around to look at her, she went AWOL.  She look at me with big puffy eyes, “Liz walk with me!!!”  We tried to walk with her as best we could, but in the end she stepped on my dress and that was it.  She ended up in the crowd with her mother before I could turn around.

I finally made it down the aisle… my father gave me away.  I took Steve’s hands… we were both trembling.  Then the JP started.  Have you ever seen the wedding scene in Princess Bride?  Well, it goes a little something like, “Mawaige… Mawaige is what bwings us togefah today.”  Ok, so he wasn’t that bad, but he butchered my name… couldn’t pronounce several words in his own vows… and I began to suspect that 5:00 came a little early for him on that day.  Then it happened… “Steve, do you take Elizabeth to be your wife…”  “I do”.  “Steve, do you take Elizabeth to be your husband?”  WTF??  Drunk bastard didn’t bother to change the names around on his giant green cheat sheet.  Everyone is giggling behind us.  Me: [sigh] I do.

Needless to say, Drunken JP didn’t stick around for dinner.  But we did it… we were married.  We had the best reception I could have hoped for.  Steve admitted that it was the best wedding and it was way better than he ever thought it would be [score!].  Actually, EVERYONE said it was the best wedding they had been to.  We served my favorite dish – Chicken Fried Steak.  We had an amazing DJ.  We had a fun photographer.  Everything about it was fun.  If the only thing that goes wrong on your wedding day is a drunk judge and an AWOL flower girl – consider yourself lucky!!

After the ceremony, we went to my grandparents house to visit.  My grandfather had recently suffered his first stroke and wasn’t able to attend.  Since we did not have a video made, we felt it important to tell him all about it. 

We spent our wedding night at a hotel.  Unfortunately, we got married on Beach Party Weekend in Galveston, TX (look it up), so there were people crawling all over the hotel.  We were so exhausted, by the time I got out of the shower, Steve had passed out.  I followed as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Who Said Romance Was Dead??

For whatever idiot reason, as our relationship progressed, I naturally started thinking about the next step.  Steve was very resistant to the idea of marriage and totally opposed to children.  I was still pretty young (23 yrs) and wasn’t sure about the kid thing.  I was willing to see if I could put that on hold because I wanted to be with him. 

We talked about marriage.  Or, really, I talked and he complained.  He didn’t understand why we couldn’t just live together.  Why I wanted to make it official.  I told him that I didn’t mind living with him like that for a while, but I would NOT be with him 10 years and just be shacked up.  I told him that he needed to figure out his level of committment to me and go from there.  I wasn’t pushing a time frame, but he needed to know that I wasn’t going to be anyone’s live-in for the rest of my life.  I had standards (granted, they weren’t really HIGH standards, but standards nonetheless).  Then, I dropped it.  I didn’t mention it again for months.

Three months later we were laying in bed:

          Steve:  So, I have been thinking a lot about….. the forbidden topic.

         Me:  What the hell are you talking about?

         Steve:  You know…

        Me: What?  Kids?  Marriage?  Jaywalking?  What are you talking about?

       Steve: Marriage

       Me:  [groan] What about it?

      Steve:  Well, I was thinking it wouldn’t be such a bad idea…

     Me:  Ok… are you talking like now?  10 years from now?

    Steve:  Whenever you want…

Ok, so I was slightly excited, but trying not to get my hopes up.  I told him that I would look at rings the next day at work (I was working at a jewelry store).  He came up to work the next day and we picked out some rings that we both liked and asked the jeweler if he could replicate them in white gold instead of platinum (broke, of course).  He told me later that he could, and he gave me a really good price.  So, I called Steve on my was to school one day to tell him about it:

      Me:  I talked to Leonard today and he said that he could do both rings for [price]

      Steve:  Huh.  That’s not bad.

     Me:  Nope.  Not bad at all.

     Steve: [very long pause] So…..  I guess we are getting married, huh?

     Me:  I guess so

Back off ladies… that romantic proposal was just for me.  That was it.  It wasn’t like a fairy tale.  It certainly wasn’t like A Wedding Story where they get down on one knee, or spell it out in Christmas lights.  It was a transaction, much like visiting the bank.  My brain obviously wasn’t working because I flew into wedding overdrive, not even listening to that little voice saying, “Really?  That was it?  What do we have to look forward to??”  Oh someone please give that little voice a megaphone!!

I planned the wedding very quickly… before he could change his mind.  We decided to get married at the new banquet hall of our favorite BBQ restaurant (it was really beautiful).  I planned everything to a T… and it was really inexpensive, yet fabulous at the same time.

A week before the wedding, Steve started feeling weird and stayed home from work.  I couldn’t figure out what was going on with him until the doctor said the word ANXIETY.  They put him on meds.  He loves to tell people that he had to be drugged to attend our wedding.  He really is such a nice guy…

All he did was complain.  Complained about the wedding (Can’t we just get married at the JP and have a party?? – We basically did that, but the JP came to the party).  Complained about the cost.  He didn’t want to deal with it.  He didn’t want to dance.  He thought it would be lame.  It really took a toll on me… trying to plan the perfect wedding… trying to make it everything I wanted it to be.  Fully ignoring that pit growing in my stomach.  Walking on hot coals trying to please everyone and not hurt anyone’s feelings, especially his terribly broken family.  By the time the wedding day arrived… I was exhausted.

And That’s When the Whores Came In…

Ok, so they probably weren’t whores, but its a good line (Tommy Boy).

After the first year, of living together (year two of our relationship), we learned to get along fairly well.  We still argued a lot, because that is what happens when you take people who were never meant to be and put them together in a one bedroom apartment and try to force a relationship.  I was still in school and working, so we didn’t spend a ton of time together, despite living together.  Our relationship seems to work best that way.

On our 2 year anniversary, we moved into a larger apartment.  I had just graduated college with my Bachelor’s degree and he had a decent job working at the post office.  I was about to start graduate school to work on my Master’s degree.  Things had been pretty good.

One night when I got home from work, I got a really strange phone call asking for “Michael.”  I told her she had the wrong number.  She insisted that she had been called by a Michael from my phone number.  I was immediately suspicious because Steve’s middle name is [wait for it...] Michael.  I immediately questioned him about this and he claimed that he didn’t know what I was talking about and that he hadn’t been talking to anyone.

Now, one phone call… not enough to call Scottland Yard.  But… this trend continued to the point where I was ready to change my number and file a restraining order against anyone who called.  They knew my name, but kept referring to me as a “roommate.”  He kept saying that it wasn’t him.  He said maybe it had been his brother… who had lived with us briefly.  Maybe it was the maintenance man sneaking in during the day… he just couldn’t convince me.  I was uber pissed.  This continued until I finally did change our number.

You would think it would have stopped, right?  I wish.  I don’t know why I didn’t dump him then.  I guess I felt really invested in the relationship.  Comfortable in my misery.  It is sad that we can get that way so quickly where the fear of leaving outweighs what you already know to suck.