I had my first night baby-free since my birthday — March 19th, so 3 months exactly. My mom picked up the boy around noon. Jack got him ready because I was so exhausted I slept in. I woke up after he asked me to several times, but by then everything was already set to go so he told me I could go back to sleep. Which I did.
And then I didn’t wake up again until around 4pm.
Which, to me, was amazing. But apparently to Jack was a big no-no.
Last night, when I told him my mom would be taking the boy overnight, he made plans to go out to a local bar. Amazingly, he invited me as well. (Which is seriously a big deal because he never invites me to go out with him.) But he was going out around 6:30, and I was not even close to ready to face the world. So I stayed home for a few hours and wrote (and played a few games online and watched some TV), then got in the shower and SHAVED! (HUGE deal — but Jack had told me the other day that I was “gross” because I hadn’t shaved in a few months.) After the shower (which is in itself a big deal if you know me — I hate getting wet) I immediately got ready, talked to Poppa for a few minutes, took the dog for a walk, and headed out. I probably didn’t get there until around midnight, but I did get there. I conquered all of the big and huge deals.
When I showed up Jack looked at me and then turned around to continue his conversation with his friend. Not an excited “Hi!” Not a kiss, nothing. He barely even acknowledged I was there. His best friend, however, gave me a hug.
So I was already in a bad mood from the get-go. I mean, how can you not even say hello? Not to mention, the look on his face wasn’t exactly happy to see me, so the second I showed up I started to feel unwelcome.
And then things progressively got worse. He was rude and incredibly intoxicated; I was pretty pissed. I tried to show him I shaved by putting my leg up on him, but by doing so I put my foot on his leg and HE HATES FEET OH MY GOD, so that turned into him shoving my foot off of him and me getting pissed because he didn’t even take a split second to care about what my true intention was.
And then a few other things happened. Every time I spoke he made me feel inferior. He’ll tell you different, but that’s how I felt. When he came inside from playing pool raging about some douchebag, I asked him what happened. He told me “nothing.” I had to pry for five minutes until he finally explained.
When he went somewhere else (maybe — probably — to get another drink?) and his friend asked me to sit next to him, Jack came back and literally moved my whole seat over and took one from another table to replace the one I had “stolen.”
When a random highschool friend of his showed up, obviously high on something, and proceeded to tell us his story, Jack pushed my face away as I tried to engage in conversation with the random friend. As Jack was talking to his friend’s girlfriend.
And again, I’m sure he’ll tell you different. But that’s how I felt it. So maybe, you should combine our stories and figure out where the middle ground is. Because we sure as hell can’t.
They went inside to play pool or something, and I walked away to clear my head. While sitting on the steps of the bar I ran into some old friends. We talked about random nonsense and it just made me happy, so I decided to go back to my group once my old friends went their separate ways.
And then things got shitty again.
Jack was wasted. Like, seriously wasted. He dropped his lighter and sorted through chips on the ground for a few minutes before he finally found it. He sat shaking his head in his hands until I said he was too drunk. He told me he wasn’t. Then his arm gave out and he smacked his head on the table. Then went on some rant about how his mind was in such a crazy place (which I assume was caused by talking to his old, drug-riddled friend, because he’s always trying to save someone and tell them how he’s been there and he knows and they should listen to him because he can save them . . . but did anyone save him when he fell too deep? No, and they all said the same things) but he couldn’t tell anyone why.
And then I said “I don’t think anyone wants to know.”
Because I guess i was still pissed.
He asked me why I was being a dick. I told him it was in response to him being a dick. He went on some rant about me sleeping all day and said he never does. We started screaming at each other.
He told me he was done with me.
I said “Good”. Then I sat on the steps for a few minutes. Then I started to walk home but realized I had to pee. So I went back to the bar, peed, and ordered three more shots for myself. I took two of them, left the third (they were incredibly strong), and really walked home.
That was around 2am(ish). It’s now almost 5am. I’ve been drinking my stash of beer I keep for when I want one or two. I usually don’t drink much.
I guess tonight my addict is taking over and wants me to feel as fucked up as possible.
I have no idea where Jack is. His friends didn’t answer me when I asked if he was staying with them. He told me he’d be up when Holden comes home (around 9am) but I’m assuming that was a lie. He’s just so good at lying.
I left him a note that says “I hope one day you’ll realize how hard I tried. And how horrible you were to me.”
I doubt he’ll ever see it.
(P.S. – I just accidentally burnt a hole in the new sheet he just bought, I’m sure I’ll hear hell for that, too.)