My Heart’s A Laughing Matter

He’s driving me fucking insane.

Oh, where to start.  I was so smitten, so in love, just a mere few months ago.  But then he moved in.  I don’t know if he’s changed since he got here or if he’s just letting more of his true self shine through. He’s become so… obnoxious!  Not really toward me but in general.

When Bobby and I first started dating, I knew that he occasionally smoked pot. And those were his words. "Occasionally." The only time I ever saw him do it was if we had gone out and he was buzzed or if he was with other friends that did it. Well, when he got here, he brought a huge jar of weed with him. He smoked every single day, usually more than once a day. He kept saying that he used to do it alot, told me all these stories about getting stoned in high school, then followed with, "I’m definitely not a pothead." It was like he was trying to convince me. The only reason he’s not smoking now is because he doesn’t know anyone here to buy it from. And I know he’s tried to find some since he’s been here.

I also think he’s addicted to Hydrocodone. He was a soccer player growing up, and I know he’s had some back and neck injuries. I understand that. He’s tried therapy, but he says it was stupid and didn’t do any good. His doctor won’t fill his prescription anymore (because his doctor also thinks he’s addicted and has flat out told him that), so he’s resorted to buying Hydros over the internet. There’s a bottle of about 200 sitting on my coffee table right now. He takes one every single night. Who knows? He probably takes them during the day, too. This is the second bottle he’s gotten since he’s been here. He never complains about being in pain until he takes a pill and I ask him about it. Suddenly, his neck is hurting, oh, so bad. Again, he follows this with, "I know people addicted to this shit. I’m glad I’m not. I can stop taking them whenever I want." Spoken like a true substance abuser.

And then there’s the alcohol. Alsie, I can’t even begin to tell you how much this boy drinks. He goes through about 3 fifths of Tuaca in a week. I usually drink a couple a bottles of wine during the week with dinner, and any of it I don’t finish, he drinks. He goes through a few cases of beer a week, and a bottle of Jack lasts about two. And it’s not like he’s just drinking one thing at a time. Three bottles of Tuaca, wine, several cases of beer, and a half bottle of Jack all in a week. He may even be drinking more than that. I know he’s been drinking all day while I’m at work, so who knows what I’m not seeing. He goes to the liquor store every single day. Last night he came home with another bottle of Tuaca, a bottle of vodka, and a bottle of chocolate liqueur. After dinner he asked me if I wanted a chocolate martini. I said no, that I was fine, and in the kitchen under his breath, he mumbled, "I figured as such." Why the fuck would he say something like that? It was like he was angry that I didn’t want a drink.

Last night, we were watching an episode of Desperate Housewives. This is during the period that Bree was realizing she was an alcoholic. He went on a tyrade about how stupid AA is! He kept calling it a cult because of the fact they use religious beliefs to set people straight. I knew he had been to AA. He was busted with pot several years ago, and that was part of his ‘punishment’. Well, he told me last night that he’s been to five different AA groups. Twice he went of his own volition. Then he told some hour-long, horrid story about going off in one of the groups about how it’s just wrong to mix a support group with religion. He said that his "words were so powerful for this one pregnant girl, that she became stressed out over it and had a miscarriage." He said this like he was proud of it!

He also becomes a complete hypochondriac when he drinks. One night at around two in the morning, he came in the bedroom hammered, talking about how he thinks he has insomnia and it really worries him. It went on for an hour. Well, I don’t have insomnia, and I wanted to fucking sleep! Hello! I have a job. I have to get up at six in the morning. Speaking of sleep, I actually haven’t been getting much of it. I have no trouble falling alseep, but I can’t stay that way. He stays up till four or five in the morning playing Halo on his 360. He gets pissed off if he loses and screams at the TV (which of course wakes me up). Then he comes to bed drunk, gets up to hurl in the middle of the night, and does crazy things in his sleep that keep me up. I’ve resorted to Valium the last couple of nights just to try to get a good night’s sleep. Even that didn’t work.

Oh, so back to the hypochondria. Just a couple nights ago (while drunk, of course), he decided that this mole on his stomach just must be cancer. He decided to call his doctor… in Chattanooga. It was midnight here meaning it was 2am there. One of his nurses answered. She was at home in the bed with her husband, and she understandbly asked him if it was an emergency. Fuck, it’s not like she can do anything about a mole that he suddenly thinks is malignant over the phone. Besides, she’s 1400 miles away! Are you fucking kidding me? Anyway, she told him she’d have the doc call him in the morning. Bobby got so pissed off! Kept ranting about how inconsiderate she was. I said, "Well, you do realize it’s two in the morning there, right?" He just looked at me like I was stupid and said, "I don’t fucking care! This is her job!"

We haven’t had sex in over a week, and he’s certainly noticed. He told me last night that it makes him wonder if I even find him attractive. Then he made some catty comment while watching Desperate Housewives (trying to integrate it with the show rather than look like he’s making a point about our relationship) that if a woman won’t have sex with you it’s because she’s getting it from somewhere else. I didn’t feel like that comment even deserved a response, so I ignored it. Truth is, no, I’m not attracted to him when he reeks of alcohol. He sucks in bed when he’s drunk, and he unintentionally hurts me. He’s heavy, and when he’s drunk, he can’t even support himself on top of me. He accidentally head butts me, and one night he backhanded me trying to reach for a bottle of KY. If I get on top of him, he just fucking lays there. And he wonders why I haven’t felt ‘sexual’ in the last week.

He never stops talking. I can’t even get through an entire TV show without pausing or rewinding it because I missed something that was said. He still doesn’t have a job and doesn’t seem too serious about trying to find one. He yells at my cats. This morning, he, in his own words, "smacked the shit out of Elvis" for eating a plant. I heard poor Elvis yelp and run out of the bedroom. Pissed me off.

Oh, and when he’s not ranting about nonsense, he’s emotional. The sappiness is getting on my every last nerve. He tells me he loves me 500 million times a day.  I’m not like that. That word loses all meaning to me when it’s thrown around so often. This morning, I kissed him goodbye. As I was walking out the door, he said, "Uh, I love you…" He said it in

a tone like, "I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you loved me before you walked out." I’ll be trying to watch a TV show or something, and he’ll turn around, put his head on my shoulder, and just stare at me. And it’s not in the loving way like he used to. Now he does it with his eyes real wide, bugging out. It’s actually kind of creepy. Again, this is only when he’s been drinking — which is pretty much always. He doesn’t act so weird first thing in the morning when he’s sober.

Why didn’t I see all this before? Was he that good at hiding it? Do you think that I’m just being silly or is there reason for my concern? I feel like I’ve been duped. I don’t know what to do. This boy quit his job, packed up his (very few) belongings, and drove 1400 miles to be with me. And I’m partially responsible for pushing him to move here! I feel like I should stick it out and see what happens, but I also feel like I might go insane if I do!

I just feel like this whole thing was a mistake. I followed my heart instead of my head, and I think my heart’s playing a cruel joke on me. It’s hard to believe that someone I care so much about has gotten to me so bad that I’m not even sad about the situation. I’m just irritated.

I sent this all to Alsie in a MySpace message earier.  I know she’s read it, but I’m still awaiting a response.  I can’t talk to Tammy about it, either, because she never liked him in the first place. She thinks he’s a dork, and every time I mention him, she makes a hacking sound like she has a fucking hairball. She said that if I were still living in Nashville, he never would’ve stood a chance with me. She thinks that the only reason I fell for him was because I was lonely and away from my friends.  Was I really that blinded?  Your thoughts?

Felina