Sober Up

8/19/2008 – 10:50 pm | by Mary

What a crappy day. I wanted to not even go into work today but two things helped to motivate me out of bed: the Teen was here and if I have to get up and take him to school, I might as well keep driving and take my ass to work. Work to complete something that had to be done in order for someone else to finish payroll. Responsibility is a mofo.

Warning: Sad news ahead.

Our IT guy passed away from a heart attack this weekend. I’m so not going to get all deep and wax on about this man’s life, it’s not my place as I didn’t know him that well. I will say Scott was only 39 and had two kids around the Teen’s age. A life completely outside his work persona, of which we all become accustomed to with co-workers.

I saw some pictures from his desk of him with his family and thought of what a good dad he must have been. You could just see it in the photos. I pray that his family finds comfort in their time of loss. Rest in peace, Scott.

If you emailed me at work the last two days, I probably didn’t get it. We came into work on Monday with the entire exchange server down. Something that doesn’t happen often and something Scott could have fixed probably rather quickly. Everyone kept asking where he was at in order to fix it… until we were all called into the conference room to be told the news.

Some people cried, everyone was in shock. You don’t come into work and expect to hear news like that. You go from, “The f’ing email is down. WTF. Can I go home?” To, “It really doesn’t matter the email is down. Ta’ hell with email anyway.” It’s just been a bad week. And it’s only Tuesday.

In light of that, I do feel it more than slightly self absorbed to feel so bitchy and in such a bad mood. Although, I’d be kidding myself to not think the bad mood is probably in some part to Scott’s passing.

No matter how shitty it may be for you, it’s definitely shittier for someone else. And by that, I mean the family and friends Scott has left behind.

But, life goes on in all it’s glory, doesn’t it? Life continues to swirl around you and you have to learn to deal with it all. Adulthood blows.

I was going to post more about the trip, especially since the last post didn’t show R in the best light. Maybe I will later. I like to get thoughts and memories down so I can look back on them but I’m pretty much done with it all.

I loved the trip, don’t get me wrong. The time R and I spent together was very much needed and helped me tremendously.

As much as I may say I’m crying and bawling my eyes out, I’m not. I’ve attempted to keep myself in check. My emotions are, for the most part, in check. Not only for R but for myself.

Even when I got insanely bored with the cds in my car and I stopped in Yuma at Target for something to listen to. It was the only store open and I couldn’t find anything I wanted or hadn’t already downloaded - tee hee.

I settled on The Fray. Although the Teen even knows this song usually brings instant tears to my eyes, I still bought the damn cd it’s featured on.

The song begin to play, and I listened. And I hit repeat. And hit repeat again. And did not allow the tears to flow.

That’s not to say I go around happy as a damn lark, I’m not. But the crying has significantly decreased since when R first left in June.

I think I’m in serious denial how long R will really be gone, or when I’ll see him again. And I’m okay with denial. It gets me through. It helps me to be a better support to R, and to get him through.

That’s not to say that I, alone, can make things easier for R. But I know that I, alone, can definitely make it harder. Funny how that works.

One thing I have found tough to deal with is what people to say to me when they discover R is away. When I say people, I mostly mean: men.

I touched on it when I talked about the guy at Jiffy Lube in an earlier post.

And then a commenter really pissed me off on Flickr this weekend.

And as much as my co-worker with the crush on me, Marco, can amuse me he’s forever on my shit list for talking sarcastically about R. “He’s in the Navy? How’s that working out for you?” *shit list!*

I can hold a grudge like a mofo (I’m an Aries, and my mother’s daughter) and one way to land on my bad side is to breathe one wrong word in R’s direction. I’ve broken friendships over it, for crying out loud.

I’m no expert and I’m definitely new to this all-Navy, all-the-time thing but I can say with all certainty: I want to hear nothing but words of support and encouragement. That’s it.

I do know I talk too much. It’s not like I’m forever divulging missions, training, where R’s exactly at or what he’s doing - loose lips sink ships and all that.

But, take the guy in Jiffy Lube. (He wasn’t the technician, the tech was super nice and like I said, even gave me the military discount. And the only reason I even told him anything was more of a way of being like: Dude, don’t mess with me and jack me for a bunch of shit I don’t need. I have too much on my mind for your bullshit.)

This other guy was a customer and was steady grilling me with questions and even tried to buy my car off me. Right? Hello!

But, I really didn’t have to say I was driving to San Diego to see my boyfriend in the Navy. Call it excitement, call it pride, call it I have too big of a damn mouth.

This man, after blatantly hitting on me and upon being shut down, wanted to make a point of all the girls in San Diego and why I wasn’t worried about R being there.

Are you fucking kidding me, dude? That’s your best game? All the worry over R’s safety, the waiting and the angst with R being away from me, period… and now we have to throw some hos in the mix? She who was relieved when R described the girl helping him find a hotel as looking like a “penguin”? I don’t need that shit!

I looked at the guy with a withering gaze (I’m kinda, sorta famous for them) and said, “I’m so not worried about GIRLS.” Yes, I’m jealous. Borderline, insanely jealous but R cheating on me? Not a concern.

Oh my dear Lord in heaven and all of the saints alongside. If you all could realize what progress saying that really, truly, is for me.

After Bymoron’s lying, cheating ass and for long afterwards being convinced every man cheated sooner or later… me? Not being concerned with R’s fidelity? Yet, I still say I’m jealous. Does that even make sense?

I’m jealous in the sense that I hate the thought of anyone being able to spend time with R when I can’t. I want to be there. I want to be by his side, always. I want to hold my man’s hand and look at every girl that gives him the once-over (he is, after all, rather hot) with that gaze that says, “Enjoy it. It’s all you’re getting.”

Hey, I said I was insane. You were warned.

Oh, and the Flickr commenter? In case you were wondering where all THAT came from… I had posted a photo of going out with a description saying I had went out due to R urging me to do so. You know, as to not WALLOW and CRY at home all by my lonesome.

This commenter irritated the crap out of me by suggesting R wanting me to go out was to alleviate his own guilt of whatever he might be doing while away.

So I stupidly got into this whole comment battle but ended up deleting it all. If you were privy to them, sorry. I didn’t delete them so no one could read them, I deleted them because I simply can not deal with the negativity. I can not. Jesus, take the wheel. I’m done.

I apologize for this sobering, boring, probably only for me post. Sometimes (most of the time, actually) blogging isn’t for you but for me and I need to get it out. I thank those that continue to be of great support to me and help me through the tough times.

Hold your loved ones and hold them tight. Life is too short. And, that? Is the most sobering thought of all.

14 Comments | Posted in » Bitch Fest, MEN!, Military Life

Saturday, not always a fun day

8/17/2008 – 7:11 pm | by Mary

In the interest of keeping it real up in this joint, I’m going to tell you a not-so-fun part of the trip to San Diego. Because we do nothing but keep it real here, right? Right.

Early Saturday morning, R left the hotel to go to the base. I had gotten up around 5:30 and noticed he was gone so I thought he might have just left. He hadn’t, he told me later he left around 2:45.

This started what became many jokes of him leaving me like a “cheap whore” in the dead of night. I was joking and R would joke right back and say, “If you were a cheap whore, you think I’d have put you up at the Westin?!”

R had an early flight to the undisclosed location and had to prepare, this being the reason for such an early departure. The poor thing must have been dead ass tired but he didn’t even come back to the room afterward to rest after the long day at “the office”.

Instead, he called me in the afternoon and said to meet him outside of the hotel. This is the day that he took me on a tour of all the bases of which I posted about previously.

I really enjoyed it since when your man is somewhere, and you don’t know where, don’t know the places he sees every day - it tends to make you feel a little out of touch.

R should be used to this feeling I get, since when he surprised me with the ticket to New York a couple of years ago it was due to a few of my girls getting in my head. Generally making me feel weird that I had never been to his apartment and things.

Never mind the apartment was, like, 3000 miles away. Women…

But when I expressed to R this being the reason I appreciated touring the bases he said, “That must be a girl thing. Guys don’t care about that shit.” I don’t know, is it a girl thing?

As much as I was glad to see R getting his swagger back (after so much bad shit happening in Phoenix), it was also touched with a strained look about him. I knew he was under a great deal of stress.

I was not going to take this personally. It’s so very easy for me to take these moods, think I did something wrong, said something to set the sour mood - and maybe even cause a huge fight over it.

I read somewhere once that the key to a successful relationship is only one person can be crazy at a time. Well, I think it not only applies to crazy but to stressed, upset, fill in the blank.

So knowing R was stressed the hell out, I was going to slap a smile on my face and be nice no matter how grumpy he may get with me.

We get back to the hotel Saturday evening and R finally took a nap. We had planned on going to the harbor for dinner but by the time he awoke and we were ready to go, he was afraid the harbor would be pretty much dead.

He asked me, “Do you want to go to the beach or the Gaslamp?”

The beach is R’s and my place that we’ve always had fun. Our (was his first) favorite hotel, the Dana, is in Mission Beach and our favorite brunch spot is in Pacific Beach.

The Gaslamp, on the other hand, we’ve never had fun in. I talked about one of our excursions there in this post and since I know people don’t usually like to go back and read older posts I’ll just tell you my favorite part:

I convince R, in his less than stellar state, to traipse down to the Gaslamp Quarter for a little wining and dining. Ya know, just don’t take a sick person there on a Friday night … and make them drive at that. The crowds, the lack of parking, the one-way streets. Our conversation consisted of:

“Stop sign.”
“Baby, could you please just let me drive?”
“Okay, but you just blew through another one.”

Another trip to San Diego was pretty much the same. We always end up at a restaurant we don’t really like since everything is always so packed, you get in where you fit in.

Not saying the Gaslamp isn’t fun, but R and I have never had fun there. Did I want to give it a 3rd try? Can I get a: HELL NO?

R was pissy the entire way to the beach. I stayed silent in the car and didn’t say much. You know when your partner is in a bad mood and you don’t want to say anything for fear of setting them off?

Not that R would have backhanded my ass but he does get his “Steely Dan” voice and hearing that voice from him makes my blood turn cold.

We park and go to PB Bar & Grill. Um, okay.

This is normally a place we go to during the day. The nighttime crowd is really rather young and I’m way too old (and uh, coupled up: hello, meat market!) to have fun in a place like that.

We ate, and then walked around and ended up at another bar. I really wanted to walk on the beach. We walked right by where I first told R I loved him and I thought it would be fun to revisit it.

I have to say the highlight of the night is R insisting he said “I love you” first and let me tell you, if your honey ever wants to believe that, let him.

But we end up at this other bar, have one drink and R grumpily says he wants to leave.

Fine.

Instead of trying to find another place, or going to the beach like I wanted, we went back to the ho-tel.

Again, I didn’t say anything and just let him drive. Plus, we had drinks in the room. Plus, I kept telling myself what I talked about in the earlier post of my first day there. Our lovely time being, and not speaking, the feeling of being very loved.

Y’all know that we women can let our minds go sometimes. “He doesn’t love me. He’s not happy to see me. He’s not even glad I’m here.”

I giggled inwardly and thought: I know you love me, Grumpy McGrumpster and I’m not falling for this bullshit.

We get back to the room and R rails me with: he wanted to go to Gaslamp, he got a hotel close to the Gaslamp so we could go there without worrying about parking, he couldn’t understand why I chose the beach when it was so far away and he really wanted to stay close so he could drink and not worry about driving.

There was more as the night went on, slightly belligerent drunk people-speak (on both sides) but that was the gist.

In my defense I told him: You’re the one that lives here, how am I supposed to know where we should go? Or even where we’re at? Or even that we’re in proximity to someplace YOU wanted to go, but didn’t tell me? And, why give me the choice?

But, one thing that pretty much deflated my whole drunken bravado was when R had said he wanted to drink. R’s not a big drinker. Ever. He’s not the nicest person when he’s been drinking (I’m a hugger) and he knows this so chooses not to do it.

I knew then, R’s not himself. I was still mad, don’t get me wrong. I went downstairs to have a cigarette outside (shhh) to remove myself from what could surely turn into a huge argument.

I came back upstairs and all was calmer and I didn’t even get (that) mad when R flung the kicker, “You just don’t always communicate well.”

Men.

I went to sleep… and awoke, to a much better day.

I’ve long stopped expecting every moment R and I spend together to be a fairy tale. Sometimes, other things get in the way and you get through it. In the end, you’re a stronger couple. While I could have done without the dramatics that Saturday night turned out to be, it’s life. Life happens.

15 Comments | Posted in » MEN!, Military Life
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