Sunday, September 11, 2005
Friday night, the boy I'm in love with called me up to say that although he had earlier indicated an interest in hanging out, he had decided to sit at home, drink alone and go to bed early. As you might imagine, I took that extremely well: we fought and I told him I'd call him the next day. Then I got drunk and sent the text message I mentioned in my previous post. When I called him on Saturday, I was nervous, because I assumed it would lead to more fighting. Well, to my relief, he was totally nice and said he wasn't mad about the text at all. He said he definitely wanted to do something with me that night, and all was well. When I asked, "so you ended up doing nothing last night?" he answered that yeah, he had just gone to bed early. We went to dinner, and everything was still fine. Though, he mentioned that he hadn't shaved in a couple of days because he's been waking up too hungover to do so. Of course, I said, "But I thought you went to bed early last night?" and he said that he had, but he had one or two really strong drinks before he passed out. A little while later, drinking cheap booze and watching cable at the house of a friend who is out of town, he gets a call from his friend The Queen. Sitting about two feet away from me, I hear him say, "Last night, I..." and oddly enough, the next words out of his mouth didn't express that he went to bed early. Instead, they indicated that he went down to the O.C. and watched his friend Eyad spin at some club and didn't get home until late. So, I got pissed and we fought about it for the rest of the night. About why he lied, whether it's ever okay, whether what he said EXACTLY constituted a lie, and most upsettingly what it is about me personally that makes him feel like he needs to lie to me (because this was apparently not the first time, nor will it be the last). And we were both miserable for the rest of the night. Now, here's the thing, the part of the story that almost bums me out the most. I knew he was lying. Right from the start. Someone who goes to bed early doesn't check his Myspace at 3:30 in the morning, as I knew that he had. When I spoke to him in the morning and asked if he stayed out late, I was giving him a chance to come clean, and he didn't. And I still didn't blow up on him, because I was trying to make us get along for a single fucking day. So, I did my best to let it go. And to me, it kinda sucks, that it worked: so long as I was willing to believe his lies and be placated by them, he was happier and therefore nicer to me, and we didn't fight. It makes me sad that that's what was necessary to keep the peace. When he dumbly made his "hungover" comment, I gave him ANOTHER chance to either come clean or get smarter. I mean, I even tried to let him have his way and lie to me, as much as I wish he wouldn't. But when he's fucking stupid enough to say right in front of me what he was really doing... it's like, I hate it enough that he lied, but it's a downright insult that he didn't even care enough to lie well. He says it was "stalker-like" of me to listen to the phone conversation he was having two feet away from me with no one else in the room. And part of the cause of our problems is that I pay too much attention to him. So, I know he wants me to be dumber, to believe his lies, to be more easily placated. And that's just not something I can do, even though it actually does make us get along better. I hate that. A lot.