The Wrong Kind of Fight

From the moment our relationship began to fall apart, Brown started acting like it was already over. I wanted him to be the kind of man who was open and honest and willing to do whatever it took to make us work. And I wanted to be the kind of woman who was assertive and loving and able to balance both of our needs.

But he wasn't that kind of man. And I wasn't that kind of woman.

So this is what happened instead.

He reverted back to his old MIA tricks – saying he would call and then not calling, saying he'd see me and then standing me up. Only now, instead of merely pining over him, I fantasized about dumping him in the most painful and embarassing ways. Like humping another guy in his living room just as his key was turning in the lock.

When we did talk or see each other, I was the nagging, enraged wife.

"I feel like you've been playing me for a year and then acting like, 'Why are you tripping?'"

"No, that's not true."

"I don't trust you anymore."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to be honest with me and not lie to me."

"You want me to say I'll never lie to you again? Everybody lies. But I won't lie about that again."

"So what am I supposed to do – measure all your words on a scale?"

"Ok. I won't lie."

And then I told him if I ever caught him in another lie, he wouldn't even have time to blink, I'd be gone so fast.

"I thought you were gone now."

I couldn't believe he was willing to let me go that easily. Without a fight. Without even a feeble attempt to make things right.

A few days later, he stood me up for an entire weekend. I went to the movies twice on Saturday just to try to keep my mind off of him. Then at 8 p.m. Sunday, I caved in and called him.

Of course, he didn't apologize. He made small talk as if nothing was wrong, even though my anger was a red hot knife and I was stabbing him through the phone line. Finally, I told him the next move was on him, because I felt I was chasing him.

He responded kindly, "You're not chasing me."

I said good night and threw my phone across the room as hard as I could, then broke into yet another firestorm of tears.

I was terrified to be alone again. Having the bubonic plague was more appealing to me than being single. The thought of returning to my old slutty ways – months of celibacy, broken by desperate love affairs and then a return to being alone – made me sick.

Was it only a month ago that I'd been so happy just to wake up next to Brown and watch him sleep?

(Brown Diaries Part 15 of 18: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 | Lessons Learned 1-3: 1 2 3)

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