PMS

His fucking alarm goes off at 5:45 AM and he doesn't get up!!! FUCK. GET UP. SHUT THE DAMN THING OFF!! I don't need to get up for another hour.

"What time do you need to leave?" I ask. 7:30 he says. For Christ's sake! It takes him 5 minutes to get ready. GET UP. But he just lies there. I'm annoyed, but finally I drift off to sleep. BAWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW. FUCKING ALARM #2.

Honey? Are you going to get up? Sweetly gritting my teeth. Mmmmhmmmm., he moans.
GET UP! GET UP!
YOU ARE SO FUCKING ANNOYING ME RIGHT NOW. I lay there for what seems like 30 minutes - but in truth, only 1 blip of the clock. 1 minute. It's a new day and already I'm agitated as hell.

"Well, I'm getting up to take a shower," I tell him - before I commit Helter Skelter.

Warm shower. Eek! A bug! Thank god it's not a cockroach. HE IS SO FUCKING MESSY. I COULD NEVER MARRY SUCH A DIRTY MESSY PERSON. I DO NOT WANT TO BE HIS MOTHER. I kill the bug in a tortuous death ritual of smashing with the shampoo bottle and then drowning the little fucker. It's what I feel like doing to my messy boyfriend.

I get out of the bathroom - HE'S STILL IN FUCKING BED AND IT IS 7:25!
I need to leave his house before I have a conniption (sp?)

I kiss him quickly. Tell him his breath smells like garlic from the night before - and bolt the hell out of there.

I have this desire to keep him close. I mean, hell, I'm 34.99999. I need to keep things in perspective, right? If not him, then who? I have this desire to push him away. Break it off. Clean.

I want the family, the kids...don't I?
I have never felt so much at tug of war with myself.

Keep him close. Send him packing.

I think about the night before while I'm driving to work.

It's not everyday you meet someone who will love you non-judgmentally. But I judge him. I go to bed with him - he wants to "cuddle" - which equates to "let me poke you in your ass", isn't it? I get so frustrated with him. With his constant need for sex. Is this really me talking?

Last night in bed, I feel detached from him. Maybe that is why I'm so cruel sometimes, I can't seem to really attach myself to him. I can't seem to spark an emotionally intimate moment with him. We don't have alot of "sparkling" conversations...he not a conversation kind of guy...

IS he the guy for me? I snuggle into him. Big, strong, warm, happy to be with me. Why can't I enjoy being happy with him? Must I always find something to bitch about? I'm disgusted with myself.

I ask him quietly what he needs from me. What are the things he longs for me to give to him in our relationship? It sounded weird. I don't think I've ever asked the guy what he needed from ME. I have been the needer for so long.

At first, I think he doesn't hear me and then I think he'll probably say something like, "I don't know".

Instead, there is a long pause (he has ADD, or at least he tells me that all the time, and I have learned that I cannot demand him to answer more than one question at a time. He is quick to think, but slow to speak. Something that always makes me think he is not sharp - but I've learned that is a falsehood. I know he can't control it, but it PISSES ME OFF. ) I wish he would answer me as quickly as I always sharp-tongue him. But he isn't like that. He is mild-mannered, soft-spoken, and doesn't ask much of the world - or of me, for that matter. Nothing like me at all. I get embarrassed that I'm so demanding and critical and wait for him to respond.

Then his deep, thick southern voice begins to speak. I need you to love me, I need you to hold me, I need you to hug me, I need you to rub me...I need you to please me...I really need you to look at me...but mostly I just need you to be happy with me.


Such eloquence out of someone who does reflect elegance anywhere else in his life. I so admire him for being able to put into words exactly what he means. When he says he loves me, he means it! But do I??

I tear up immediately. He knows me too well, and this is why I love him. I wonder why he puts up with my childish antics. Thank god we are in the dark - he won't see the tears streaming down my cheeks - the ones I've held back years ago- everytime I was with someone who didn't want me to love them, or hold them, or hug them, or rub them or please them and were never happy to be with me. Who didn't want me.

I move my arms around his full belly. I love it. Its realness. It's warmth. I feel small, but I feel safe. Safe with my heart, with being me. with being with him I drift off to sleep...