This is probably going to cause more drama than it's worth :|
~.: I'm not even sure if I should really be going on about this here. I just am really feeling the need to talk about this right now, since five hours ago, the conversation ended on a rather unsatisfactory note for me (excepting the fact that I had stopped sobbing and he had stopped yelling).
~.: Last night, I texted Guille to tell him I was getting off work early and to ask him what his plans for the night were so we could maybe do something. He told me he was going to Haymarket to see his friend's band play. Since I love his friend's band (seriously, they are excellent), and love hanging out with my boyfriend, I thought I'd go along, and invite Layne to come too, since she also loves this band. So we're all sipping our drinks, dancing, laughing, generally having a good time. Guille steps outside to the enclosed area to get some fresh air, Layne and I keep dancing. When I look over to the enclosed area, I see Guille is dancing with some other girl, and she's got her ass in his crotch. Since I'm seeing this all through the filter of three Malibu and pineapples and two shots of Patron, I wander over to the door and stand there silently, waiting for him to see that I see him. Eye contact is made, I half-smile and walk away, returning to Layne on the dancefloor. At least she's a faithful dance partner. So I wasn't really sure what to do. I tried to keep dancing, but my heart wasn't in it. After the big deal Guille made about Layne and I kissing (and yes, I realize there's a huge difference between macking on someone and letting someone dance up on you, but it was the double standard that got me, the one wherein it was implied that you don't get physical in any way with other people when you're in a relationship with someone else -- this was one of those things that "you just don't do" (in Guille's words) when you're with someone), him dancing with some chick was the last thing I expected to see. It was 1/3 shock, 1/3 jealousy, and 1/3 just plain hurt. So I went to the bathroom to pee and cry a little, came back, sat with Layne, fought crying more, then finally went outside to him and determined to calmly let him know that what I saw hurt me, but that I understood we were both drunk, and that I was willing to make allowances for that if he would. Instead, the conversation went like this:
Me: I'm drunk, you're drunk, but please don't be a hypocrite.
Guille: Really? Really, you're doing this?
Me: I'm not doing anything. All I'm saying is that I'm drunk, and you're drunk, but please don't be a hypocrite.
Guille: Wow. Really?
Me: -getting more stung by the invalidation of his words and the fact that he's either blatantly ignoring my feelings or is just completely oblivious to them; tears are coming now- Just please don't be a hypocrite. That's all I'm saying.
Guille: Why are you doing this?
Me: What am I doing? -and then the waterworks really let loose-
~.: I was too frustrated at this point, and afraid of making a scene, so I just went back inside and sat with Layne. Then he followed me in, and I tried, and failed, to calmly explain that I was upset because I saw him dancing with some other girl, and asked him if this was what he did when he went out without me, because, and especially after the whole me and Layne kissing thing, I had no desire or will to dance with any other guy, and no, when I went out the night before, I didn't dance with other guys because I had no reason or want to. And he just continued to act shocked and appalled at my jealousy and being upset. So I tried again to extricate myself from the situation and prevent making a scene by going to the bar to get some water -- this conversation was going to go better sober anyway. He comes over, and suddenly it's all about him networking and his career, and literally, these words came out of his mouth: "Get over it."
~.: I was done at that point. I don't know, call me old fashioned, but when your girlfriend is upset with you because she sees you dancing with some other girl -- closer than how she had been dancing with you earlier -- generally the appropriate response isn't "get over it." So things just went even further downhill from there, because I was a sobbing mess, and I wasn't even so focused on the fact that he had danced with some other girl now. Now I was trying to at least get him to understand that him telling me to "get over it" was even more hurtful than seeing him let some other girl dance up on him. And he wasn't getting it. Instead, he twisted it around to I wasn't trusting him, that I didn't understand the harmlessness of the situation, that it was only ten seconds, that he was just trying to network with people -- and when it turned to his career, I sobbingly apologized for getting in the way of it and stormed out of the bar.
~.: And thus went the next two hours. I feel like he completely missed the point and kept angrily apologizing for the wrong thing. After a while, it really did have nothing to do with him dancing with some other girl -- I just wanted him to acknowledge that he had hurt my feelings, and he wouldn't even grant me that in a way I felt was sincere. The biggest thing I wanted -- and still want -- an apology for was him telling me to get over it. Because that's twice now that he's invalidated my feelings and not taken responsibility for the effect of his words on me. I asked him previously to, instead of saying "don't be sorry" when I apologize for something, just acknowledge that I've apologized and move on for the situation. He flat-out told me no. Because I need to build more confidence or something.
~.: Oh, and that was the other thing too. He was all about everything I needed to do. I need to be more aware, more understanding, more mature, more this, more that -- not once did he acknowledge -- sincerely -- anything he needed to do to fix this situation. So of course, me being me, I gave up, just wanted the whole thing over with, and apologized. And then, like the codependent people-pleaser I am, I asked him how I could fix the situation to just have it over. I got no answer of course.
~.: And throughout it all, he kept asking me if I was okay to drive. Every ten minutes, like it would only take me two hours to sober up from rum and tequila. I still don't think I was sober when I finally fell into bed this morning, but I just wanted to go home. I was tired, and depressed, and I'm still tired and depressed. I don't know what sort of scene I made last night, but I do feel guilty for embarrassing him like that, if I did, because that's totally not his style, but on the other hand, I'm still too pissed to care.
~.: But I do want to talk to him some more about it, now that we're both sober. And I want him to listen to me without interrupting, or sighing overdramatically, or treating me like I'm a child because of the way I feel. And I want to kiss and make up, and just have him genuinely say, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by dancing with that other girl, but I understand if it hurt your feelings, and I'll try not to do it again. And I'm sorry that I told you to get over it -- you have a right to your feelings, and it's not my place to tell you to feel otherwise."
~.: And I don't think I'm going to get that. I don't know if it's a gender thing or a culture thing, but it's depressing and frustrating either way.
~.: And to top off my morning, no one told me that we put those violent mousetraps in the pantry to catch the little guests that have been stealing our food, so I opened the pantry this morning to find a struggling, crying mouse with his back leg practically twisted off in a trap. I saved the little guy and put him outside so he won't eat our food anymore, and chances are he'll die out there, which I'm okay with because it's nature, but really? Why do we have to use the violent traps? Those mice aren't hurting anyone, and now he's going to suffer for the rest of his short mouse life. And I'm depressed about it. I just wanna cry. And I can't even cry to the person I want to because now I feel like my tendency towards emotional volitility makes him uncomfortable. It's not my fault he's not in touch with his feelings. >:
~.: Last night, I texted Guille to tell him I was getting off work early and to ask him what his plans for the night were so we could maybe do something. He told me he was going to Haymarket to see his friend's band play. Since I love his friend's band (seriously, they are excellent), and love hanging out with my boyfriend, I thought I'd go along, and invite Layne to come too, since she also loves this band. So we're all sipping our drinks, dancing, laughing, generally having a good time. Guille steps outside to the enclosed area to get some fresh air, Layne and I keep dancing. When I look over to the enclosed area, I see Guille is dancing with some other girl, and she's got her ass in his crotch. Since I'm seeing this all through the filter of three Malibu and pineapples and two shots of Patron, I wander over to the door and stand there silently, waiting for him to see that I see him. Eye contact is made, I half-smile and walk away, returning to Layne on the dancefloor. At least she's a faithful dance partner. So I wasn't really sure what to do. I tried to keep dancing, but my heart wasn't in it. After the big deal Guille made about Layne and I kissing (and yes, I realize there's a huge difference between macking on someone and letting someone dance up on you, but it was the double standard that got me, the one wherein it was implied that you don't get physical in any way with other people when you're in a relationship with someone else -- this was one of those things that "you just don't do" (in Guille's words) when you're with someone), him dancing with some chick was the last thing I expected to see. It was 1/3 shock, 1/3 jealousy, and 1/3 just plain hurt. So I went to the bathroom to pee and cry a little, came back, sat with Layne, fought crying more, then finally went outside to him and determined to calmly let him know that what I saw hurt me, but that I understood we were both drunk, and that I was willing to make allowances for that if he would. Instead, the conversation went like this:
Me: I'm drunk, you're drunk, but please don't be a hypocrite.
Guille: Really? Really, you're doing this?
Me: I'm not doing anything. All I'm saying is that I'm drunk, and you're drunk, but please don't be a hypocrite.
Guille: Wow. Really?
Me: -getting more stung by the invalidation of his words and the fact that he's either blatantly ignoring my feelings or is just completely oblivious to them; tears are coming now- Just please don't be a hypocrite. That's all I'm saying.
Guille: Why are you doing this?
Me: What am I doing? -and then the waterworks really let loose-
~.: I was too frustrated at this point, and afraid of making a scene, so I just went back inside and sat with Layne. Then he followed me in, and I tried, and failed, to calmly explain that I was upset because I saw him dancing with some other girl, and asked him if this was what he did when he went out without me, because, and especially after the whole me and Layne kissing thing, I had no desire or will to dance with any other guy, and no, when I went out the night before, I didn't dance with other guys because I had no reason or want to. And he just continued to act shocked and appalled at my jealousy and being upset. So I tried again to extricate myself from the situation and prevent making a scene by going to the bar to get some water -- this conversation was going to go better sober anyway. He comes over, and suddenly it's all about him networking and his career, and literally, these words came out of his mouth: "Get over it."
~.: I was done at that point. I don't know, call me old fashioned, but when your girlfriend is upset with you because she sees you dancing with some other girl -- closer than how she had been dancing with you earlier -- generally the appropriate response isn't "get over it." So things just went even further downhill from there, because I was a sobbing mess, and I wasn't even so focused on the fact that he had danced with some other girl now. Now I was trying to at least get him to understand that him telling me to "get over it" was even more hurtful than seeing him let some other girl dance up on him. And he wasn't getting it. Instead, he twisted it around to I wasn't trusting him, that I didn't understand the harmlessness of the situation, that it was only ten seconds, that he was just trying to network with people -- and when it turned to his career, I sobbingly apologized for getting in the way of it and stormed out of the bar.
~.: And thus went the next two hours. I feel like he completely missed the point and kept angrily apologizing for the wrong thing. After a while, it really did have nothing to do with him dancing with some other girl -- I just wanted him to acknowledge that he had hurt my feelings, and he wouldn't even grant me that in a way I felt was sincere. The biggest thing I wanted -- and still want -- an apology for was him telling me to get over it. Because that's twice now that he's invalidated my feelings and not taken responsibility for the effect of his words on me. I asked him previously to, instead of saying "don't be sorry" when I apologize for something, just acknowledge that I've apologized and move on for the situation. He flat-out told me no. Because I need to build more confidence or something.
~.: Oh, and that was the other thing too. He was all about everything I needed to do. I need to be more aware, more understanding, more mature, more this, more that -- not once did he acknowledge -- sincerely -- anything he needed to do to fix this situation. So of course, me being me, I gave up, just wanted the whole thing over with, and apologized. And then, like the codependent people-pleaser I am, I asked him how I could fix the situation to just have it over. I got no answer of course.
~.: And throughout it all, he kept asking me if I was okay to drive. Every ten minutes, like it would only take me two hours to sober up from rum and tequila. I still don't think I was sober when I finally fell into bed this morning, but I just wanted to go home. I was tired, and depressed, and I'm still tired and depressed. I don't know what sort of scene I made last night, but I do feel guilty for embarrassing him like that, if I did, because that's totally not his style, but on the other hand, I'm still too pissed to care.
~.: But I do want to talk to him some more about it, now that we're both sober. And I want him to listen to me without interrupting, or sighing overdramatically, or treating me like I'm a child because of the way I feel. And I want to kiss and make up, and just have him genuinely say, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by dancing with that other girl, but I understand if it hurt your feelings, and I'll try not to do it again. And I'm sorry that I told you to get over it -- you have a right to your feelings, and it's not my place to tell you to feel otherwise."
~.: And I don't think I'm going to get that. I don't know if it's a gender thing or a culture thing, but it's depressing and frustrating either way.
~.: And to top off my morning, no one told me that we put those violent mousetraps in the pantry to catch the little guests that have been stealing our food, so I opened the pantry this morning to find a struggling, crying mouse with his back leg practically twisted off in a trap. I saved the little guy and put him outside so he won't eat our food anymore, and chances are he'll die out there, which I'm okay with because it's nature, but really? Why do we have to use the violent traps? Those mice aren't hurting anyone, and now he's going to suffer for the rest of his short mouse life. And I'm depressed about it. I just wanna cry. And I can't even cry to the person I want to because now I feel like my tendency towards emotional volitility makes him uncomfortable. It's not my fault he's not in touch with his feelings. >: