What to do this weekend…?
Originally published at Morbid Romantic. You can comment here or there.
Alfred’s friends left it up to him to decide where we eat this weekend. He asked me for suggestions, but I just don’t know. I don’t feel comfortable making his mind up for him because I don’t want to spend his money for him. I don’t know how much he wants to spend, so I don’t want to say a place that is more than he wants to spend, which he would then feel obligated to take me to.
Whatever.
We’re also going to see the Hulk. Booooo. But again, I am not going to complain. I am going to see the movie and be a good sport and NOT be a spoiled brat for once. I won’t huff and puff. I’ll smile and act charming, I swear.
I’m really trying not to complain but it’s hard sometimes. Last weekend, we pretty much stayed in his room watching TV or doing things on the computer. I do this every day all week. All I do is sit around a house alone, no car to go anywhere in. I stare at walls and TV screens and computer screens. After a while, it makes you feel dead; your days blend into one another because absolutely nothing happens. I wanted to get out of the house and DO something, even if it was for an hour or two. But, I felt selfish saying something. Alfred works all week, so he deserves to get to sit around the house and be lazy. Still, is two hours that much of a compromise? Two hours out and the whole rest of the weekend in?
I didn’t say anything, though, even though I was miserable. I got to end one whole week stuffed away inside with nothing to do with a weekend stuffed inside with nothing to do, only to begin another week stuffed inside with nothing to do.
I just wish I could be happier.
Let’s see if he will take me to Busch Gardens like he promised. He said we’d go this weekend, but it looks like we’re not since we’re making plans with his friends. But again, I’m not going to say anything or pressure him because that’s selfish and spoiled. Plus, I hate it when people make me feel bad for being unhappy. Misery is bad enough without someone making you feel guilty or fucked up for it.
I’m just coming to terms with the fact that I can probably never be truly happy.