Another smashing Thankgiving has flown on by. Family. Turkey. Dressing. Sweet Potatoes. Pie.
And the stomach flu.
Luuuvvvlllyyy
Those trimmings aren't nearly as appetizing in reverse.
And where was my dear sweet love? They guy who says he can't do without me? His life is over if I'm not in it?
About 7 hours away. He had a good excuse, I suppose. Family, blah, blah, blah. So, when he hadn't heard from me that "luuuvvvlllyyy" morning, he finally called to find me barely coherent in a dehydration-induced stupor. I had to tell him I couldn't talk. I didn't have the energy to hold the phone any longer without losing consciousness.
Later that day, when I was more lucid due to the miracle that is Phenergan (and if you've taken it, you'll know what really says that I was MORE lucid on the stuff!), he says he's deathly worried about me and can't wait to get home. He's obligated to see an old friend that night, but he doesn't want to be out for long, so he can rest and get home to take care of me. What a sweetheart!
Flash forward to 1:30 AM: Ring goes my phone. I manage to swim out of my Phenergan-cradled sleep and grab it. On the other end is my boyfriend's slurry voice. He just got home and would like me to know it. He's been "good" (which apparently involves splitting pitchers of too-expensive beer at a place whose chief draw is skimpy-outfitted "lumberjack girls"), he wants me to know. I can't remember the end of the conversation because we both fell asleep.
At a more reasonable hour, I let him know I'm making arrangements to be able to see him that night. He says okay and he'll let me know when he's leaving town to head home.
[Insert the spinning clock face here, as the hours tick by.]
No word from Sweetie. It's early afternoon when I finally call and get an answer. His dad informs me Sweetie is asleep on the couch. "He'll head home tomorrow," he tells me.
Great. Thanks, Sweetie.
I'm understandably upset. Again. But too weak to be too agressive about it. Truth be told, I haven't talked about it with him yet. I'm even more weary of having to stick up for myself with this guy. What the hell is wrong with me that this is the best I get?
And he wonders why I don't feel important to him. Wow.
I finally decided to drag my ass out of bed on the third afternoon after coming down with the crud. A shower and fresh jammies and it's bedtime again. Heaven knows, I need a good night's sleep for work.
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