Last night, after a shower, I laid on the carpet of my screened-in porch , in the dark. The phone in my hand, my thoughts on my life, and my attention on whatever was rustling around in the bushes under the porch. I wanted Katie to be here with me… For me… in a big way. Reader, look back to the last post, I was… am… feeling upset about some things. Some things in the past, a few things in the future, and a handful of things now. She called, she came over, felt her way through my dark house and found me on the floor of the porch. She did that sit/lay on me thing that girls only can (or should) do. Her close-ness was reassuring, and that’s what I wanted. She remembered that the bill she needed to pay online, she didn’t have the account number and had to go home to get it and she wanted me to ride along with her. Prior to her remember that was the pinnacle of the night. It was all down hill after that.

I laid on my bed while she worked on getting her bill paid on my computer. She started asking me what’s wrong. On my mind were lots of things, it was at capacity, not just of one thing, but … it was… heck, is, a jar full of marbles, I can’t get started on talking about what’s wrong, there is just too much, and where do I start? None of my worries or thoughts had come to maturity, I wasn’t prepared to share any of them. She tells me that I never tell her anything.

At one point she asks about my bad mood, she asks me what she should do, should she go home? On looking back, I’m not sure if the answer of “no” was the right one. I said “yes”, because I wanted her there. She’s the only person in the world I wanted to be with me right then. She starts pushing buttons. Maybe I should have been better off to be alone.

Telling me that I never tell her anything is a button. She knows this, we’ve talked about it a dozen times before. I detest her speaking in those absolutes, always & never. This was a good jab at that button. I never tell her anything? Both quantity and quality wise, I tell her more things than anyone else.

There is something that had been a on going issue for some time with us, something that she did for awhile, that I didn’t want her to do. She fought with me on it for a long time… I thought I was caring, she thought I was controlling. So I dropped the topic and let things go how they should. I remember the last conversation prior to last night about the topic. She told me about how she realized all the harm this activity has done her and her family and so forth (these are things I’ve told her a hundred times each before, but I was glad to hear her say it to me) and after that conversation I was rather content that she was done with it. Since that conversation, I haven’t thought about it and her once. She brings it up, “Since we’re not dating can I do [activity]?” There is another giant button push.

I tell her she can, but I’ll probably stop talking to her. She says I don’t care about her. I say if I didn’t care about her than I wouldn’t care what she does. I started into one of the things that’s been weighing on my mind for the last week or so. I’ve pretty much got four friends. Katie, Ryan, Jason, and Rob. All four of those relationships (with the exception of Katie, prior to last night) were either in some stage of decay or soon to be decay. Ryan, I don’t think I’m going to spend nearly as much time with because we’ll be working different places, Jason I’ve seen less and less of since I moved out and when I do go see him he’s playing Warcraft, which doesn’t make me super keen on going down to his house just to watch him play Warcraft… Sure we could drum up things to do, but we rarely do, Rob… Seems like I only see him on Wednesdays and he’s pretty busy facilitating the Freedom Place stuff. And Katie. Katie… The hope I have to stave off this impending state of being alone. Katie… Who I had looked forward to being there for me, and spending all sorts of time with her during the summer… Katie.

The discussion escalated. Where do I start? Let’s just skip to the end, the stuff in the middle? Probably doesn’t make sense to anyone that wasn’t there. She says she’s trying to have an “good conversation”, she still doesn’t realize that this topic in regards to her I can never be “cool” in, not when she starts defending this activity which has likely been the primary destructive force in her own life. That’s my feelings, and it’s because I care. Let’s hop to the end:

Me: (having completely run out of patience with her claiming that I don’t care about her)You want me to be an a!@#$%e? You expect me to be an a!@#$%e? Fine! I’ll start being an a!@#$%e!
Her: (having complete run out of patience with me) Might as well!
Me: Get your s!@# and let’s go! You think I’m joking? Get your s!@# and let’s go!

I kicked Katie out of my house.

I kicked Katie out of my house.

How do I feel about this? I don’t know… I paused for a few minutes just now to turn it over in my head, and to be honest, I really don’t know how I feel about this. The action itself? Hated it. The process of booting a person, any person, let alone someone so important to me, out of my house felt unnatural to me, maybe it would have been easier for me a couple years ago, but I’ve been trying to be a nice guy. I’ve become one more thing that I said I never would. Been awhile since that’s happened. Katie’s feelings? I know I hurt her bad last night. Real bad. She hurt me too… A lot too, so much that it opened up a way for me to act a way I didn’t think I could, and maybe shouldn’t have. Even now, I feel rather negligent about Katie’s feelings. That might sound messed up, and it is. Katie’s feelings have been an incredibly high priority for me for a long long time, and it feels so strange to suddenly not care about them. It has become my honest belief that she honestly believes I don’t care about her. I told her that it sometimes (like now) feels like I’ve wasted a huge amount of effort trying to get her to understand how much I truly care about her when she says things like this… Like “You don’t care about me,” or “I don’t think you love me,”

Last night, while I was laying on my bed with her (this is before things really started exploding), I had what may be a low level epiphany. I told it to her. Maybe I can’t care for you the way you want to be cared for. Maybe you can’t see care the way I can show it. I think that’s true, I think that’s why she says these things to me, I think that she really does believe I don’t care about her. How can it not feel like a waste of effort to put someone at the fore-front of your heart and mind for so long and then have that person tell you that you don’t care?

She left, she didn’t say a single word to me after I told her to get out. She walked past me without looking at me, out the door, and down the walk without looking back. Laugh if you will reader, but I was proud of her. She kept up the strong act for as long as it was necessary. Did she cry last night? I’d put money on it. But she didn’t show it to me. I was proud of her.

I closed the door, went back up stairs. I could still hear her outside. She took a long time to get into her car and get it started. I wondered what was going on in her head. Thoughts of revenge? Thoughts of making a fool of herself shouting at my open window because she was angry? Because she was hopeful? Thoughts of coming back and banging on my front door? Maybe she was just composing herself? I don’t know. I don’t know what I expected. I don’t know what I wanted.

Her car pulled away. I turned off my lights and laid in my bed. I knew I wouldn’t sleep any time soon. My mind wouldn’t turn over the thoughts of the night very well. I wanted to think about them, but … just something wasn’t working right.

Love makes people do retarded things. Early last night, Katie said “You think I’m weak,” I agreed, she said “Your weak too,” Yeah. Here’s why I know I’m weak. I laid in the dark with the phone next to my head and every time, for at least an hour, that a car went by I listened for the sound, Katie’s car is a diesel. Even though Katie played a very large part in why I was feeling like I was, she’s still the only person I wanted to be there. “If you wanted her to be there, maybe you shouldn’t have booted her out,” Yep. I’m a mental defect who is a haphazard product of his emotions. Ha. For at least a year now, the only person I’ve ever wanted to be there for me is Katie. Every single other fight we’ve had that I was hurt, by her or me or anyone, she was still the only person I wanted to be there for me. Maybe I should get around to changing that. Not like replacing the batteries in the TV remote, so I don’t know how a person does that. Looks like I’ve given myself a mild case of Stockholm syndrome.

So, where are me and Katie now? I don’t know. Last night didn’t change my feelings about anything, her or anything else… Maybe how I act on those feelings, but not the feelings themselves. Will we still be moving her stuff from Cincinnati? Does she ever want to see me or talk to me again? Does she hate me? The answers to all these questions are beyond my reason and limited wisdom to know which answer is the “good one”.

So… I don’t know.