Communication Matters
Diana and I had a huge fight the other day over what seemed like a trivial conversation that started about me recounting working on The Wolf of Wall Street. I was describing a scene where an extra had to get her hair buzzed off by one of the supporting actors. I honestly forget how this memory fit into our conversation but it seemed to at the moment. It was fine at first. It then led into another movie, Empire Records, where a girl shaved her head on screen. She went over possible mistakes that could happen, forgetting a line, etc, and I said "yeah or cutting the person on accident."
Oh God, of course you need to go to the violent option. Okay, whatever. Let's just stop, I can see that you want to get into the blood going all over or what not.
(Abridged version)
I was like what are you talking about? I'm just talking. It made sense to mention, I mean, it's just one of the options of things that could go wrong--"OF COURSE that could go wrong, that goes without saying," she snapped back, dismissing me. Long story short: I accidentally called the girl a model, which she was, a hair model, not like a sexy babe model, and she got offended by that and the excitement by which I was recounting the story. As if I were remembering her with fondness. She said I was getting like a "giddy school girl" and get like that often when telling stories. I remarked back that fine, I'll just stop telling stories then, and "you know what, maybe you'll like that because sometimes I feel like you don't want to hear from me anyway." It was a heat of the moment comment to be sure but it did occur to me before, since she did often talk over me and in brief moments of frustration I've thought, "she just wants someone to talk at, I could just as easily be a hamster."
She later admitted, after spending some time in the bathroom getting ready for her day, that this is a result of her insecurities and her issues with men that she blames on her home life. There were no positive male role models in her life growing up and the immediate women surrounding her didn't go so far as to assure her that any such people existed in the world. This is a thing that has haunted our relationship, though I've often not understood why until she first mentioned it to me. I'd say things like, "I feel like you don't even know me" or "you're talking to me like I'm someone else." And that's because any time she had a question about me, or something I did, she filled it in with her bitter mistrust and contempt for all men. I was trustworthy until I was manhood's worst excesses. Respectful and decent until I was a typical mouth breathing dog. Interesting until I was utterly predictable trash.
It was the seesaw that long prevented the emotional growth of our relationship. She couldn't grow close towards someone she harbored innate contempt for and I couldn't fully trust the affections of someone who couldn't, or wouldn't, judge me solely on my personal flaws and merits. We generally worked, I felt like we mostly got along and we functioned well together, we traveled well together, our interests meshed, but for a long while it just seemed like we were stuck in the mud. One night was so bad I accidentally called her "Christine" when defending myself. It was so familiar I snapped back almost a decade into my past, seamlessly, and after saying it was simply in awe. Steps forward, back, then back in the middle. Never snapping but restricted.
I had regretted not breaking up after the "Christine" incident simply because it made me feel like my entire time with Christine was a waste. What was the point if I didn't run the moment I fell into a similar situation? But then, it wasn't really similar, she didn't operate the same way Christine did. Things actually did get better. Maybe it really was the booze. Maybe it was good to not be reactionary. Maybe breaking up would have been the Christine relationship causing me to prematurely ruin salvageable relationships. I had to consider all angles.
After she gave me the explanation for snapping over the haircutting comment I still sat, somewhat somber, appreciative but ultimately unmoved. We're all works in progress. That's true. If we're working. But I felt exhausted by the whole ordeal and it was making me confront the depth of our communication issues and me jumping up, giving a high five and a hug, and saying "hell yeah, I get that, me too, nobody's perfect," would've been both insincere and unhelpful. Why work at all if a simple explanation will do? She was annoyed and I can tell almost regretted the moment of vulnerability she offered, but I had to stay true to myself, to us, and said we'd talk more once she got home from work.
Once she got home I was much less in the mood. I kind of just wanted to relax. I had to psyche myself up again. Before I was ready. I was annoyed and down and the wound was bloody and gooey and fresh. Thankfully she pushed the issue with little prods, snarky comments and jabs to re-awaken me. We got into it again. In short, I said that I don't feel like I have an equal voice. I said I feel like she talks over me, I have a great deal of patience for her, particularly stories of hers that I may have heard a dozen or so times, and she doesn't have patience for me.
I do believe she is going to try more, and did notice a difference this morning, which I think made for a more interesting conversation between the two of us. I also think that she will still put a wall up when I contradict her at times, though. It was the other thing I mentioned. Her instinct, when I do that, is to find the reason why I may be contradicting her instead of assuming I might just be contradicting her because I find her perspective wrong or have a perspective that I think she should equally consider. We'll see when that moment comes again. But it seems like there was some progress.
This morning upon waking she jovially said, "let's get married! That'll be some new excitement for you!", referring to my potential existential crisis I spoke about later in the previous evening. We joked that it might be a reason worth visiting Vegas. Truth be told, I don't have any desire to get married. Nothing personal. I just don't see the function. I know that sounds bitter and ridiculous and unromantic. But there's no kids or family involved. Or potential of that. But I feel bad if that's what she wants. She wouldn't want to pressure me, I'm sure, but I think she'll question why, particularly because I was engaged before. Why then and why not now? She might think. Not unreasonably. Different time of my life. Younger. World was my oyster. Naive. Leaping at things. Maybe not convincing, but it's just how I feel.
Anyway, that's all for me now.
Wasz, ryan