Couples fight. About a bunch of stuff. That’s just a fact. Like the fact that there are 9 million bicycles in Beijing or whatever…
I can fight. Oh, fuck yeah, I can fight. Cut in front of me in a queue? Be rude to my friend? Overcharge me for services? I WILL FUCK YOU UP (to channel Lloyd Grossman, Tropic Thunder.)
And I used to go hell for leather with my lovers too. Such passion. Hell, I’ve already written on this blog about how in my culture it’s literally seen as the normal thing to do, be it healthy or not. If you fight, you make up. You fuck all night. It’s exciting, invigorating. Whatever you want to call it.
That IS continental love. Coup de foudre. L’amour fou. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH IT IS LITERALLY DRIVING ME TO INSANITY. Be inside me, or fuck up my world, just don’t ever, ever leave me.
I’m feral. I have a higher sex drive than most mutts, and a rage in my gut the likes of which has never even been seen in comic book villains, I HATE THIS, I despise that. Fuck this filthy world.
But up until a (relatively) short while ago, I was very uninhibited in my reactions. If something pissed me off, you would fucking know.
I don’t thrive on embarrassing whatever man or woman I’m fucking. No, not at all. I’d get them on their own and let loose. Then when my point had gone across, I’d fuck them like I had all hell to prove. That’s just what was normal for me. Tears, screaming and then passion. It’s all I knew.
When my last relationship ended, something became fragile within me. Only recently, I’ve pinpointed what that thing is. You see, I would catch him in a lie, and he would ask me in a hurt voice why I was calling him a liar. I was the bad guy. The bad guy Ltd.
He used my passion against me. It’s not a crime to be unreasonable, but it very much is a crime to lose your shit entirely, and almost give someone a case to file against you for harassment. That was the place he trapped me in.
I honestly thought I WAS the crazy one. I mean, I have my problems. But being sent off the edge by a man who has basically lied to you about everything except his name isn’t necessarily a problem. A character flaw maybe….why didn’t I shove him to the curb the first time I caught him in that lie. I don’t know. Never mind.
But I am different in my approach to actual relationships now. Timid.
I’ve always been easy going in the day to day. Even back then. Wanna do that? Sure. Wanna go get this for dinner? Yeah why not.
I just don’t care about the small stuff. I never met a food I didn’t like (What? I’m French, we aren’t actually generally faddy eaters, or picky eaters as children. We try everything. And I happen to love everything.)
My boyfriend says to me “what do you want to eat?” and I might say I don’t fancy X, but literally everything else is on the table. I don’t make him list possibilities and then say no to every suggestion. He’ll suggest something and I’ll say yeah, great. Let’s order.
That’s not what I’m talking about.
This week, for the very first time I talked to him about something that I wasn’t happy with. It took me ages to get up the courage. And alcohol.
But he replied and told me I was totally right and apologised, and it floored me.
You see, that little shit wherever he is now, probably poor, miserable and sinking into debt (his entire family is shit with money….it’s actually really sad), actually conditioned me to think that telling someone I didn’t like something they did made me this psycho loon. Because that’s how it started. Sure, It escalated, and I DEFINITELY did and said things that weren’t okay. 100%. But It began with him reacting SO BADLY to criticism that it made it impossible to live with. He told me he hated when we were up all night arguing. So I tried to stop. I spoke to him calmly. That didn’t work either.
Because my communication wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he had lied to me, and his family, and everyone he knew about everything. Everything. And he was drowning in it. He couldn’t keep me on, because it would have come to a hideous head at some point. Plus I was pointing out his lies on a regular basis.
We had nice memories. We took nice trips together. We fucked a lot in the short time we were together. Drove around a lot. Made films. Took plenty of pictures.
But I have trouble imagining that any of that was real, now. In the present I feel like that life is one thousand miles away. Or the tail end of a fever dream. It doesn’t seem real at all.
My boyfriend, today…..Is painfully honest. Seriously, if something is in his head, I will end up knowing about it. He’s honest with me about me, physically and emotionally. He’s honest about other people. He’s honest about his job. His finances. Everything. I never wonder. I’m never worried. He is the most open partner I’ve ever had. There doesn’t appear to be any game at all here. He wants me around. It’s that simple.
We have fun in bed. All sorts. And then sometimes, unexpectedly it won’t be about that. He’ll put his hands on me, and kiss me deep, and it really feels like….lovemaking. I think?
And as I’ve recently found out….I can tell him if something is bothering me. And he doesn’t disappear. He doesn’t say he’s gonna come to me, and then bail.
I’m not quite in the region where I can feel safe yet. I’m definitely flirting with the idea. Which is terrifying. My family life is so….chaotic, and my love life has been erratic at best.
I hardly dare put my head down on the comfortable nook of his chest, and shut my eyes and imagine I’m not about to be torn up, or told I’m crazy for having things that I need from someone I love.
But for the first time in nearly two years, I’m almost ready to try.
I’m spending time in his apartment. He works in the days, but not weekends. Once I go back to uni, it’ll really be weekends only, but while I’ve got annual leave, I can chill in the capital and amuse myself, or relax in his place until he gets back.
I’m in love with this guy. I look forward to him coming home. I look forward to his dumb goofball jokes about my accent, or French culture. I’ve come to really like that he’s Canadian. He’s not like anyone I’ve been with before.
And I don’t feel like he’s out to get me. I hope I can get used to the idea.
I really do have hope.