Communication Breakdown
It was only a matter of time before I snapped, I mean I'm only human and I can only take so much before I have one of my famous tantrums. But I refuse to say I fucked anything up because while I probably didn't make things any better, Daniel certainly didn't act like an angel either.
It started out with something really dumb, as these things do. I didn't do anything, Daniel just woke up with a his funny bone all wiggling so he did what he used to do when he was in an extraordinarily-good mood: started to bug the living shit out of me. First he made fun of my shirt. Then he offered to get me my first yogurt of the morning and asked me how the yoga was helping my flexibleness and I believe the term "tart" was somehow included in the sentence. I tried ignoring him and that just made his grin even more sloped, which always used to worry me. I told myself, I'm an even bigger boy now, I have nothing to fear from this crum-bum with too much early-morning energy and then I politely asked if Daniel wanted to take Wally for a walk. I should have been suspicious when he readily agreed and almost bounced out of the house. Bouncing is my thing. Daniel never does it. But I was just glad to get some peace and quiet for my yoga session because YES I do still try to get yoga into my day regularly; this grand, hairy physique isn't going to trim itself. Speaking of a trim, I started thinking about waxing again the other day and that's never a good sign, another sign that Daniel was starting to get to me.
The house was quiet while Daniel was gone and I was able to finish my session, feeling that I had worked up a suitable sweat. In fact, it was a little too much of a sweat, so I took off my shirt and left it on the kitchen table while I went to pour myself a glass of juice. I heard the screendoor open but I didn't turn around, idly listening to the jingle of Wally's collar as he ambled into the house and the sound of the screen being shut again. Daniel didn't say anything to me as he left the room and after I had quenched my thirst, I turned around to put my shirt back on... only to find it missing.
That's the last straw, I decided as I stormed into the living room where Daniel was flipping channels much too innocently.
"Where is it?" I demanded.
"Where's what?" Daniel replied, not even looking up. I started to fume and then changed gears.
"Oh you think you're so clever, Mr. Jones. If you don't tell me where my shirt is, I am going to steal one of yours and wear it and you know my manly muscles are going to stretch it so bad you will never be able to wear it again!" I shook my finger at him while I threatened, but Daniel remained unfazed.
"What do you need a shirt for, anyway? It's not cold in here and it's even warmer outside, stop being such a prude." He scoffed. I kept my jaw from dropping but I couldn't seem to keep my voice from climbing octaves.
"PRUDE?! You've cracked, it's finally happened: too much time in the sun has finally addled your brain!"
"Look I'm not the one havin' hysterics about a bloody shirt, mate." Daniel looked way too smug to be in any way believable and my temperature rose a few notches.
"Give it." I imperiously, majestically even, stuck out my hand in a demanding way. Daniel looked at my hand, then slowly pulled his gaze back up to meet mine. I flushed and his eyes twinkled, but I refused to let him call me a prude and then have me prove it true.
"Oh you mean this?" Daniel coyly(!) pulled the shirt from the backpocket of his jeans. "Or you'll do what..?" Daniel drawled. Stupid Daniel pushing my stupid buttons and me stupidly falling for it YET AGAIN. I just kinda... leapt at him. Over the side of the couch, I think, I'm not too sure except all I know is one moment I was glaring at him as he waggled the shirt and the next thing I knew we tumbled off the couch onto the floor. This had to be the dumbest solution I could have come up with because of course we started a tug of war over the shirt and while it didn't rip, I have a sinking feeling that it's never going to shrink back to a normal shape, let alone size. I should have just let him have the shirt and gotten another shirt, I was in my own house for cryin' out loud!
Nope, instead we wrestled and I got horribly out of breath even if I actually held my own and we seemed pretty evenly matched. Daniel's all sinew and muscle but I outweigh him and I do actually have my own muscles now, so even when he accidently elbowed me in the face, we still kept on for a few minutes until I thought I might give myself a heartattack. Finally, I let him go and tried to back off, shouting "Alright, alright, keep the shirt if it means so much to you, ya wanker!" But then Daniel actually tried to drag me back into our makeshirt "wrestling ring" on the living room carpet! I yelped and grabbed the armrest of the couch only to find myself expertly flipped and pinned. Why the hell couldn't I have older brothers to teach me these tricks?!
"Say 'Uncle'!" Daniel grinned, and I couldn't believe the phrase had actually come out of his mouth. My eyes must have been bugging at that point.
"Are we five? No I won't say 'Uncle!'" I complained, trying to wiggle free without any success.
"Say it!" He crowed and then that sonofabitch actually TICKLED me! I couldn't help it; I shrieked and flailed and made a complete sissy fool of myself as I begged him to stop until I thought I might faint from lack of air. When he finally let up, I couldn't even crawl away and I just glared at him again in a most likely very glazed fashion.
"You're fucked up, you know that." I croaked. Daniel just smirked, looking mighty pleased with himself. I, on the other hand, felt beat up, tired and worst of all was that underneath it all I was really turned on. And instead of making me feel embarressed, I started to feel really angry and then Petty Diva Darren opened his mouth and said,
"Shit, if you wanted me so badly darling, all you had to do was ask." In my most tart and camp voice, it was so catty that I set my own teeth on edge and I thought Nice job Hayes, very subtle and sensitive and TOTALLY the way to solve things, you braindead piece of toast. With no surprise, I watched Daniel recoil slightly and his smile turned less amused.
"You wish, ya fuckin' fairy." Which was the expected rejoinder to what I'd said, but just like I had turned a bit of harmless banter into barbed wire, Daniel's tone was a shade too sharp and his smile more of a snarl. I felt a bit sick at ruining an old joke, but I was even more angry that Daniel's tone heavily implied that he had been long aware that on some level it wasn't a joke. It was a mocking "I know exactly what you wanted all these years" and it made me so angry that if I hadn't gotten a hold of myself, I probably would have said something so cruel and cutting that I would be ending this entry about how Daniel's gone for good and I don't think I will see him ever again. Luckily, the rational part of my brain that knew I had "started it", so to speak, managed to grab control of my mouth and swallow whatever poisonous thing I was going to say.
I took a deep breath. Took another. Looked away from Daniel and rumpled my hair, trying to put Diva Darren back in the box. As the anger slipped away, in its place was a chasm of hurt inside me that I had repeatedly and successfully covered over, one of the reasons I had killed my own band, why I had pushed Daniel to go so far away from me. And that was before when he was so innocent of what he was doing, now it was even worse because he'd just spent months practically flirting his ass off with me or having me think he was flirting and then he so easily rubs this in my face, actually I didn't know what felt worse now with all he had just implied with a single quip. I pulled my knees up to my chest and lay my chin down, momentarily forgetting that Daniel was still sitting there right next to me, having gone silent.
"Darren, I'm sorry." His serious tone broke into my pathetic little downard spiral and I lifted my head, startled. I don't know how I must have looked but Daniel looked sober as a judge, his eyes darting around my face.
"No, it was my fault," I replied tiredly, not wanting to linger on hurt anymore. I've had years of hurt, I had no reason to try to hug a little more to my chest. I meant to reassure Daniel with something normal and friendly but instead my mouth slipped the reins one more time. "But was it always just my wish?"
I couldn't really believe that I was going and trying to bring this up, to talk about it right after I had been slapped in the face with that little bit of history. But I'd just about reached my breaking point, trying to silently figure out what Daniel wanted, trying to have my cake and eat it too. I'm just not that clever and Daniel was too good. To be fair to me, he's had years to perfect this poker face existence of his but I wanted to know if that's how he really wanted it. Would he be honest with me, even just once?
Daniel looked at me for a long moment, unreadable but not aloof. Then he licked his lips and looked away at the rug.
"Yeah, it was just your wish." He finally answered, but there was something about the way he phrased it that didn't come across as a complete sentence. I felt like there should have been a comma there, not a period. But Daniel didn't finish the sentence and then he abruptly stood up, offering me a hand up which I took since I had started to stiffen up on the floor and moving was becoming less easy. After he pulled me up, he let go to reach down and pick up the shirt that had caused this mess and handed it up me, like some sort of wrinkled peace offering. I wanted to say something else to him, to try to push a little more, but instead I took the shirt and let Daniel quietly leave the room. If I wanted Daniel to be fair to me, I had to be fair to him too. I couldn't expect, as much as I wanted to, Daniel to just become an open book like I am, magically overnight. I don't know how to make this better but I know when I'm being unrealistic, having had years of practice and people giving me weird looks. Since Daniel is still here, there's hope for the future, even if I have no idea how I could reasonably bring this topic up again. But I have to try, because if I don't try than I'm saying he's not important to me and I know that's a lie. I've let him worm his way back into my soft, foolish heart. I wouldn't be me if I hadn't. I'm not a complete fool for letting things get this way, right?
-D
It started out with something really dumb, as these things do. I didn't do anything, Daniel just woke up with a his funny bone all wiggling so he did what he used to do when he was in an extraordinarily-good mood: started to bug the living shit out of me. First he made fun of my shirt. Then he offered to get me my first yogurt of the morning and asked me how the yoga was helping my flexibleness and I believe the term "tart" was somehow included in the sentence. I tried ignoring him and that just made his grin even more sloped, which always used to worry me. I told myself, I'm an even bigger boy now, I have nothing to fear from this crum-bum with too much early-morning energy and then I politely asked if Daniel wanted to take Wally for a walk. I should have been suspicious when he readily agreed and almost bounced out of the house. Bouncing is my thing. Daniel never does it. But I was just glad to get some peace and quiet for my yoga session because YES I do still try to get yoga into my day regularly; this grand, hairy physique isn't going to trim itself. Speaking of a trim, I started thinking about waxing again the other day and that's never a good sign, another sign that Daniel was starting to get to me.
The house was quiet while Daniel was gone and I was able to finish my session, feeling that I had worked up a suitable sweat. In fact, it was a little too much of a sweat, so I took off my shirt and left it on the kitchen table while I went to pour myself a glass of juice. I heard the screendoor open but I didn't turn around, idly listening to the jingle of Wally's collar as he ambled into the house and the sound of the screen being shut again. Daniel didn't say anything to me as he left the room and after I had quenched my thirst, I turned around to put my shirt back on... only to find it missing.
That's the last straw, I decided as I stormed into the living room where Daniel was flipping channels much too innocently.
"Where is it?" I demanded.
"Where's what?" Daniel replied, not even looking up. I started to fume and then changed gears.
"Oh you think you're so clever, Mr. Jones. If you don't tell me where my shirt is, I am going to steal one of yours and wear it and you know my manly muscles are going to stretch it so bad you will never be able to wear it again!" I shook my finger at him while I threatened, but Daniel remained unfazed.
"What do you need a shirt for, anyway? It's not cold in here and it's even warmer outside, stop being such a prude." He scoffed. I kept my jaw from dropping but I couldn't seem to keep my voice from climbing octaves.
"PRUDE?! You've cracked, it's finally happened: too much time in the sun has finally addled your brain!"
"Look I'm not the one havin' hysterics about a bloody shirt, mate." Daniel looked way too smug to be in any way believable and my temperature rose a few notches.
"Give it." I imperiously, majestically even, stuck out my hand in a demanding way. Daniel looked at my hand, then slowly pulled his gaze back up to meet mine. I flushed and his eyes twinkled, but I refused to let him call me a prude and then have me prove it true.
"Oh you mean this?" Daniel coyly(!) pulled the shirt from the backpocket of his jeans. "Or you'll do what..?" Daniel drawled. Stupid Daniel pushing my stupid buttons and me stupidly falling for it YET AGAIN. I just kinda... leapt at him. Over the side of the couch, I think, I'm not too sure except all I know is one moment I was glaring at him as he waggled the shirt and the next thing I knew we tumbled off the couch onto the floor. This had to be the dumbest solution I could have come up with because of course we started a tug of war over the shirt and while it didn't rip, I have a sinking feeling that it's never going to shrink back to a normal shape, let alone size. I should have just let him have the shirt and gotten another shirt, I was in my own house for cryin' out loud!
Nope, instead we wrestled and I got horribly out of breath even if I actually held my own and we seemed pretty evenly matched. Daniel's all sinew and muscle but I outweigh him and I do actually have my own muscles now, so even when he accidently elbowed me in the face, we still kept on for a few minutes until I thought I might give myself a heartattack. Finally, I let him go and tried to back off, shouting "Alright, alright, keep the shirt if it means so much to you, ya wanker!" But then Daniel actually tried to drag me back into our makeshirt "wrestling ring" on the living room carpet! I yelped and grabbed the armrest of the couch only to find myself expertly flipped and pinned. Why the hell couldn't I have older brothers to teach me these tricks?!
"Say 'Uncle'!" Daniel grinned, and I couldn't believe the phrase had actually come out of his mouth. My eyes must have been bugging at that point.
"Are we five? No I won't say 'Uncle!'" I complained, trying to wiggle free without any success.
"Say it!" He crowed and then that sonofabitch actually TICKLED me! I couldn't help it; I shrieked and flailed and made a complete sissy fool of myself as I begged him to stop until I thought I might faint from lack of air. When he finally let up, I couldn't even crawl away and I just glared at him again in a most likely very glazed fashion.
"You're fucked up, you know that." I croaked. Daniel just smirked, looking mighty pleased with himself. I, on the other hand, felt beat up, tired and worst of all was that underneath it all I was really turned on. And instead of making me feel embarressed, I started to feel really angry and then Petty Diva Darren opened his mouth and said,
"Shit, if you wanted me so badly darling, all you had to do was ask." In my most tart and camp voice, it was so catty that I set my own teeth on edge and I thought Nice job Hayes, very subtle and sensitive and TOTALLY the way to solve things, you braindead piece of toast. With no surprise, I watched Daniel recoil slightly and his smile turned less amused.
"You wish, ya fuckin' fairy." Which was the expected rejoinder to what I'd said, but just like I had turned a bit of harmless banter into barbed wire, Daniel's tone was a shade too sharp and his smile more of a snarl. I felt a bit sick at ruining an old joke, but I was even more angry that Daniel's tone heavily implied that he had been long aware that on some level it wasn't a joke. It was a mocking "I know exactly what you wanted all these years" and it made me so angry that if I hadn't gotten a hold of myself, I probably would have said something so cruel and cutting that I would be ending this entry about how Daniel's gone for good and I don't think I will see him ever again. Luckily, the rational part of my brain that knew I had "started it", so to speak, managed to grab control of my mouth and swallow whatever poisonous thing I was going to say.
I took a deep breath. Took another. Looked away from Daniel and rumpled my hair, trying to put Diva Darren back in the box. As the anger slipped away, in its place was a chasm of hurt inside me that I had repeatedly and successfully covered over, one of the reasons I had killed my own band, why I had pushed Daniel to go so far away from me. And that was before when he was so innocent of what he was doing, now it was even worse because he'd just spent months practically flirting his ass off with me or having me think he was flirting and then he so easily rubs this in my face, actually I didn't know what felt worse now with all he had just implied with a single quip. I pulled my knees up to my chest and lay my chin down, momentarily forgetting that Daniel was still sitting there right next to me, having gone silent.
"Darren, I'm sorry." His serious tone broke into my pathetic little downard spiral and I lifted my head, startled. I don't know how I must have looked but Daniel looked sober as a judge, his eyes darting around my face.
"No, it was my fault," I replied tiredly, not wanting to linger on hurt anymore. I've had years of hurt, I had no reason to try to hug a little more to my chest. I meant to reassure Daniel with something normal and friendly but instead my mouth slipped the reins one more time. "But was it always just my wish?"
I couldn't really believe that I was going and trying to bring this up, to talk about it right after I had been slapped in the face with that little bit of history. But I'd just about reached my breaking point, trying to silently figure out what Daniel wanted, trying to have my cake and eat it too. I'm just not that clever and Daniel was too good. To be fair to me, he's had years to perfect this poker face existence of his but I wanted to know if that's how he really wanted it. Would he be honest with me, even just once?
Daniel looked at me for a long moment, unreadable but not aloof. Then he licked his lips and looked away at the rug.
"Yeah, it was just your wish." He finally answered, but there was something about the way he phrased it that didn't come across as a complete sentence. I felt like there should have been a comma there, not a period. But Daniel didn't finish the sentence and then he abruptly stood up, offering me a hand up which I took since I had started to stiffen up on the floor and moving was becoming less easy. After he pulled me up, he let go to reach down and pick up the shirt that had caused this mess and handed it up me, like some sort of wrinkled peace offering. I wanted to say something else to him, to try to push a little more, but instead I took the shirt and let Daniel quietly leave the room. If I wanted Daniel to be fair to me, I had to be fair to him too. I couldn't expect, as much as I wanted to, Daniel to just become an open book like I am, magically overnight. I don't know how to make this better but I know when I'm being unrealistic, having had years of practice and people giving me weird looks. Since Daniel is still here, there's hope for the future, even if I have no idea how I could reasonably bring this topic up again. But I have to try, because if I don't try than I'm saying he's not important to me and I know that's a lie. I've let him worm his way back into my soft, foolish heart. I wouldn't be me if I hadn't. I'm not a complete fool for letting things get this way, right?
-D