A big box of nothing.

I gave Boyfriend his Christmas presents when he got home from work Christmas Eve morning and then again on Christmas morning.

I gave him a paw print ornament from Puppy (we made it together, she hated every second) and some shower stuff Christmas Eve. Then Christmas I gave him a couple movies and two new pairs of shoes that he was wanting.

He gave me nothing.

Technically, he gave me some Disneyland trading pins a few months back as they arrived, but those were because he thought I would like them (he’s been ridiculously into those damned pins). He claims that the stuff he ordered for Christmas haven’t arrived yet. Which means they are probably more damned pins.

I don’t collect pins.

I wanted an engagement ring. I want him to admit that he loves me so much that he’s over his other marriage and his problems with “the institution of marriage” and that he wants me to be his wife.

But that seems not to be.

I guess he did get me something for Christmas, a continued sadness that I won’t be getting to marry the man that I love and the complex that I’m not good enough for him. I know he feels bad that he had to go to work and leave me crying after we talked today, but you know what? Let him. If I have to live with the truth that he doesn’t want to be married (again) then he has to live with the truth that it hurts me and makes me sad.

It’s not right and it’s not fair but it’s the way it is. He’s not leaving me, I’m not leaving him. I just may remain unmarried in my lifetime. There are worse things. We have a life together and we love each other. The only things missing are engagement ring, wedding bands and a wedding.

Even though I know I deserve those things, I also know that I can live without them. And it looks like I will continue to do so.

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Giving French Dude the boot

Last week, Boyfriend let me know that French Dude was going out of town for a few days. “HOORAY! We get our house to ourselves for a few days!” was my reply.
And it was glorious, so comfortable and easy. I loved every second of it.
Until Saturday, Boyfriend and I came home from the movies to find that French Dude was home and in the shower.

Drat.
After his shower, standing in a towel, French Dude approached Boyfriend and they were chatting. I was in the kitchen, getting things together for another outing that Boyfriend and I were going on. When I heard Boyfriend raise his voice.
He never raises his voice.
“Wait, you took WHICH bag??? The leather one?!?!?!”
Now, Boyfriend has had this particular leather bag for 15 years, it was part of his graduation gift from the school he attended. This bag is an $800 bag. It’s a nice bag. When he was moving in, I went to swing it around or something and he stopped me in my tracks, explained how expensive and special this bag was and I immediately handed it to him because I didn’t want to ruin it.
French Dude had seen that bag, FULL OF STUFF MIND YOU, emptied it out (dumped everything on the floor) and took it as his own bag when he went out of town.

He never asked to use it. He never even hinted that he’d borrowed it. He had made the point to text Boyfriend to tell ME that he’d thrown out the Ant Bait that was in his room and closed the door so I wouldn’t have “anything to stress about”. (Ummm yeah, I told him 5 times to keep that door closed so Puppy couldn’t get in and mess with the ant bait since you know, it could kill her!! I had to go so far as to PUT A SIGN ON HIS DOOR for him to FINALLY start leaving it closed. Ugh, jerk.) But never did he mention that he’d taken the bag. If he had, Boyfriend would have told him to guard it with his life. Frankly, if he had ASKED Boyfriend would have told him NO YOU CAN’T USE IT, HERE’S 1871223 OTHER BAGS IN OUR HOUSE YOU CAN USE INSTEAD but no, French Dude saw that beautiful leather bag, thought it was “the perfect size” and took it.
And then, it got stolen from him because the dumbass put it into checked baggage at the bus terminal.
French Dude had the stones to say to Boyfriend, “yeah, the bag got stolen. But don’t worry, nothing of value of mine was in it. But yeah, that bag was yours.”

I almost exploded.

Boyfriend couldn’t even speak, he kept trying to walk away from French Dude, who kept chasing after him like a moron.
I started shrieking like a howler monkey. French Dude looked at us like we were turning purple with pink polka dots.
He kept saying, “Sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would get stolen.”
I tried to hammer home, “Dude, YOU stole it FROM THIS HOUSE!”
He didn’t get it. He said “I didn’t know it had so much sentimental value.”
My voice got even more shrill, “IT HAD VALUE YOU JACKASS! IT WAS AN $800 BAG! And you didn’t even ASK if you could borrow it!!! That’s THEFT!”
It wasn’t until I started tabulating what he owned that would be equivalent to the dollar amount. His watch, his computer, BOTH of his suitcases (WHICH WHYYYYYYY DIDN’T HE TAKE ONE OF THE TWO SUITCASES HE OWNED?? Because THE LEATHER BAG WAS BETTER LOOKING, of course!) all the clothes, the shoes and all the cash in his wallet; and it still wouldn’t amount to what that bag was worth.
He still looked confused. I lost it.

I told him to get out. To get dressed, pack his things and leave.
He started to argue, “I need to make arrangements, I need time.”
I grabbed my phone and set the timer, “You have 10 minutes and then I’m going to start throwing your things out the front door.”
That seemed to wake him up.
He was still trying to follow Boyfriend around and appeal to him, but Boyfriend was too livid to even look at him.
I started throwing the food that he’d purchased into a bag, he told me “I don’t need it” I told him, “Then throw it away yourself, I want NOTHING of you in this house. You broke our trust, you stole from us. I NEVER want to be reminded of you.”
I took the terrible paintings he’d been working SO hard on, and piled them on top of his suitcases once he’d packed them and moved them into the living room. He said, “I can’t take those with me.” I told him, “Nobody here wants your terrible ‘art’.”
His hand was shaking when he handed me the key I’d made for him.
I was comprising an email to his mother, I did my best to keep my head, but I did tell her that we’d had so many problems with French Dude for so long, this theft was the last straw. We can tolerate a lot of things, but the blatant disregard for even the simplest amount of respect, NOT taking what ISN’T yours; it was too much and we couldn’t allow him in our house any longer, so at 10 days shy of him leaving the US and returning home, we had to boot him out.

When he handed me the key, I looked him straight in the face and said, “YOU did this. We trusted you and tried to help you, and you betrayed us. You better make DAMN sure your mother pays for that bag or I will have you arrested at the airport when you try to board your plane for home.”
And frankly, I intend to.
Boyfriend and I tried to find that bag again, it isn’t in production anymore. Which made it even worse for Boyfriend.
I found two other bags, ranging from $907 – $1,675 and sent the mother the link.
She’s agreed to pay, she’s actually tried to negotiate the price down, but Boyfriend is being adamant. He wants $1,000. I want $1,675, but it wasn’t MY bag French Dude stole.
OH AND I JUST FOUND THIS OUT, apparently Paypal has been taking $20 for conversion costs every month the mother has paid for French Dude’s rent, so WE’VE NEVER BEEN PAID THE FULL AMOUNT OF HIS RENT! Man, if Boyfriend weren’t insisting on the $1,000 I would be even more mad.

After French Dude left for the last time (I shut the door in his face after tossing a few things he’d left in the guest room on the ground at him, and told him, “NEVER come back here”) Boyfriend and I talked for a long time.
“THIS is what you were talking about the whole time.” he said to me, shaking his head.
I tried really hard not to say “I TOLD YOU SO” instead, I opted for “I’m sorry babe, I tried to tell you.”
I felt relief knowing I’d never have to see French Dude again. Boyfriend probably will feel some relief when/if the mother pays.
Boyfriend also waxed nostalgic about his own life, how his mom had to bail him out more than a couple times and how it really helped “kick him in the ass” and get himself together. My parents have had to do that for me too, it’s all a part of growing up.

*****

Update: She paid.
Now I feel better. Boyfriend can get a bag that’s close to the one that was stolen, but it won’t be the same. And it will break his heart every time he thinks about it.
After Boyfriend got the alert that French Dude’s mom had paid the full amount; he called his own mom and thanked her for all she’d done for him. Bailing him out and making him learn the lessons he needed to learn.
And yeah, I might have fallen in love with him even more than I already am.
I think I won’t fully relax until it’s past the date that French Dude departs the country. I’m not scared of retaliation, really. But I know I’ll feel better when I know he’s not anywhere near me, Boyfriend or our home.

Wait, what did he just say?

Sunday is my weekly call to my father. Usually, he’s too drunk to answer. Occasionally he’s lucid/sober/not quite hosed yet and he’ll answer the phone. The conversations are usually limited to 20 minutes or so, but the most recent call went almost 45 minutes because we talked about New Nephew.

My father is a poster child for Type A Personalities. Not only that, if he walks into a room, he sucks ALL OF THE RIGHT directly to him. For example: you could state that “The sky is blue” and my father would state “The sky is AZURE at this moment in time” and he would be right. Oh believe me, you would be correct too, but HE’D BE MORE CORRECT. It’s one of his most apparent traits other than his capacity to be drunk. My Brother and I have long accepted this about my dad.

Lately, Dad has been obsessed with my relationship with Boyfriend. Well, when I say obsessed I mean OPINIONATED. But not in the way you think. See, Dad is elated that I’m no longer single. I’m pretty sure he thought I might be too much of a head case to have any kind of relationship ever. 

Since Dad wants me to continue my relationship with Boyfriend, he occasionally offers advice or commentary on the stories I tell him about Boyfriend and I. Normally his comments aren’t really anything outstanding, common sense commentary is the norm. But the other day, Dad said something…off.

We were talking about how I don’t bother Boyfriend at his place of business. I could, it’s a public place. But Boyfriend would be working and wouldn’t be able to spend more than a moment to look at me before working again, so what’s the point really. Boyfriend keeps things separate in his life, he works with lots of people who aren’t necessarily people he would hang out with outside of work (I’m the same way) and bringing his personal life to those people really wouldn’t benefit his career so he keeps work friends separate from his family and actual friends. (I’m the same way, for the most part. I’m a chick, and chicks in Cubicle Farms loooooove to talk about their personal lives. While I don’t mind divulging some details, there are few people I work with I would invite to my home. Ya know?)

On that subject, my father said to “Well, he probably just doesn’t want you coming to his work and seeing him screwing another woman!” and chuckled.

…….wait, what did he just say??? Did my father just try and joke about my Boyfriend possibly cheating on me? WHO SAYS THAT TO THEIR DAUGHTER?!?!?!? 

I laughed politely and explained that Boyfriend and I had that conversation EARLY on in our relationship, because I know the nature of his workplace makes it easy to start sleeping around. Boyfriend looked me straight in the eye and said “I don’t dip my pen in the company ink” and that was enough for me. 

Then it struck me, a few months back, when my father asked me if I was happy in the relationship and I had told him that I had never been so happy in a relationship before and that Boyfriend and I intend to marry one another, my father had then stated “Well I can meet him at the alter, I don’t have to meet him before then.” Which is weird right?? 

I’m my father’s only child, his only daughter, and he doesn’t want to meet the man I love and want to marry? WHO IS HE??

 

Then I remember, his mind is pickled and full of holes from 30+ years of drinking and mixing pain medication and alcohol and it makes it a tiny bit easier to dismiss his comments as nonsense. Which the completely are. I think I’m more annoyed at his presumptions than anything. I’ve been that stupid in relationships before, I’ve learned what to watch for and when to trust my gut. Frankly, the lessons I learned I sure as hell didn’t learn with any input from my father.

Maybe that’s the problem too, I never shared the lessons I learned with past relationships with my father. I didn’t want him to tell me what I’d done wrong when I was hurting already; I had to figure the mistakes out (both mine and anyone else’s) myself without my father sucking all the Right away and not allowing me to come to the correct conclusions internally.