I love you too….
Thank you for throwing that cookie at me five times during this conversation. It’s helping. Tons.
And I know, you are a good man. You work hard, and you financially provide for your family, and give us an awesome life. You are obnoxiously smart, and I know you care deeply about me and our 3 children.
But I hate feeling like you think when you’re there, working out of town for five days of the week, that it’s a separate life. And to a degree, it is, but for you to act like there’s no point for you to connect the two at all… Like why would you need to talk to me about making plans and changes to the rest of your week…
Why? For starters, my stuff, and the kid’s stuff, is there too. The fish that won’t eat for a week. The plants that I’ve had for *going on* 4 years that you religiously forget to water (that can’t be moved down here yet) that will probably just end up dying in your care…. The air mattress for me to sleep on, you could have grabbed it to bring down here…. etc. All of that could have been talked about, had I known you were leaving it all for a week. You didn’t “need to run that by me for it to be OK” but it ***would have been nice to know, asshole.***
But you don’t see why there should be any overlap. That hurts my feelings. Like it’s “none of my business” what you are doing there, or wherever you are that’s not here, “it has nothing to do with me”. It feels a lot like when we were separated. And I hate that feeling. That’s not what’s happening here. You’re working out of town during the week, why does this feel… Like more than that?
I just want to scream at you. I’ve been walking around actually crying this morning, because I really do miss you, and you couldn’t carve out two minutes to send me a fucking text message about your changing plans? During your 30-40 minute drive home, plus another 20-30 minutes packing your car up to head 6 hours south of where you are now and the thought never crossed your mind to TELL YOUR WIFE until you were already well out of town? You were that busy? Probably not, but I guess that’s how far down the list talking to me is.
But yeah, me and my vagina are just being emotional and stupid, I should be thankful you called at all. Some wives hardly get as much as that, so I should just not feel like this.
Ok sugarcakes. I’ll work on it. Have fun. All I ask, is that you please not do shitty things behind my back that if I find out about it will hurt me or the kids. You are gonna go do whatever, I’m not gonna know, and I either except it or…? So I guess I’ll just sit here like a good little woman and shut my mouth and just nod and smile for you, and finish the fucking laundry. I’ll get to work on our next week of meals, caring for our 3 kids by myself (school starts tomorrow), and just generally stick to things that actually concern me. Thanks, Lance Romance.
That’s a shitty feeling. And your response will be? “I’m not trying to make you feel that way.” Of course you’re not. This is all just twisted silliness created by my stupid little lady brain. I know. Ugh.
*twiddle thumbs, exhale*
I love you too. Drive safely.