I woke up today, mad. Mad mad mad! Suddenly, firmly planted at the front of my mind, was a lie he told last December. LAST DECEMBER. I don't know why, and I don't know what caused it to be the thing of foremost importance in my life, but I had to leave the house. I kind of wanted to kill him.
And he wasn't doing anything bad. He even was on the phone, and said, "I've got this meeting I want to go to tonight, so I won't be able to come by"...and he said it without me glaring at him, or whining, or wheedling, or doing any of those things. He remembered! By himself! Like a big boy!
But I still hate him because he told a lie in December. It was a small-ish lie, too, but it's under my skin. It feels like that night was the start of a lot of mess, and maybe I need him to apologize for it before I can move on to the next THOUSAND lies.
He stopped by our apartment to pick up some spoons "because the boss' wife made soup." FUCK. I even said, jokingly, "What, are you going to go do heroin?" He replied, jokingly, "That would be pretty cool, wouldn't it?"
Hah. Hah. Fucking Hah.
The next day, I was supposed to be going to pay the $1000 earnest money deposit for the house we were planning to buy. He'd not been able to contribute to the deposit because he wasn't making any money.
"The shop's slow until the New Year."
I'd scrounged, borrowed, and taken a cash advance on my credit card to get that money together.
He LIED. He had MONEY and he spent it on HEROIN. He stole my fucking SPOONS. He came right in my house, lies all in his mouth, and stole my spoons and lied about money so he could buy fucking heroin with the money he'd made from work and left me to worry about all the grown up shit.
That was eight months ago. It was the first time I got a whiff of something being wrong. I'm mad about it, today.
And I'd just been telling him that I couldn't muster up a good mad anymore. Hah! I got a mad for him now. Maybe I should go back home and yell at him like he wanted me to do a few nights ago.