That’s something.

This weekend was the first time Trav really upset me.  He was drunk Friday night and was purposely doing things to upset me.  He was in that sort of drunk mode.  You know, using that antagonize gene that all men have.  It all starts on the playground when a boy pulls a girl’s hair and runs away because he likes her.  It’s built in.

Anyway, I was sad Friday night and I was angry Saturday morning.  I knew that wasn’t the time to talk about anything, as I was a tad hung over, and he was still tipsy.  So I decided to go get my massage, head home, and take a nap.  That afternoon I decided I would come back that night so we could talk.  I normally wouldn’t make that drive at 8:30 just to be at his place by 10:00, but I had to talk to him face-to-face or else I would stew about it all weekend and that’s never good for anyone.

I got to his house and we talked for a bit.  I told him that Friday night upset me, and that he really hurt my feelings.  I held it together, minus just a couple of tears when we went outside to smoke.  He apologized profusely, said he was an idiot, and that it would never happen again.  He told me he would never make me feel that way again.

I’m sure he will, and I will make him feel that way.  That’s life.  But as long as the intentions are there, we both try our best, and we’re both accountable when we mess up and genuinely sorry, that’s what matters.

Anyway, we went and had drinks after that.  Just a couple of beers, and then we headed back home.  We laid in bed, my arm draped over his chest, and he said “I’m glad you don’t hate me.”  I told him of course I didn’t, and then I said something else I don’t remember, but he looked down at me, and I closed my eyes because I knew if I didn’t the tears would come.

Then he said, “It’s okay baby.  You can cry.”

So I did.  I cried.  He put his arms around me and just let me cry.  He didn’t say anything until I spoke first.  I said “I don’t ever want to feel that way again.” And he said he was sorry.  I cried a bit more and said “Like I’m not there.  Like I don’t matter.”  Again, he said he was sorry and held me even tighter.  More tears.  I thought about how there was a night a long time back when he gave me a look.  It was in jest, but there was certain truth in his look.  One that said you are insignificant, and how that feeling translated to Friday night. Finally, I said, “You didn’t even kiss me.  All night, you didn’t kiss me…”

And I broke.  My insides twisted and I hurt.  I hurt like I had not hurt in quite a while.  Not since that last time I laid in a bed and cried.  But this time I did not hurt as badly as the last time I felt pain like this… because I felt relief at the same time, because he was there.  He kissed my head, 1,2,3 times.  Telling me he was so very sorry and that he loved me so much. 

There’s something interestingly sweet about being held by a man who has hurt you (however small or big – I’m not trying to make this out to be bigger than it is), and letting him comfort you for the hurt he caused.  At least, when it is sincere.  And his apology definitely was.

Guess we have made it through our first “argument,” for lack of a better term.

I’m so glad I have a man who understands me, and I also feel fortunate that I am finally a person who can forgive when it is deserving, and stand my ground when it is not.

I slept in his shirt last night.  It didn’t smell like him anymore, as it had been washed, but it still makes me feel close to him when we’re not together.

I must really love this man.

Alllrighty.

  Back to work.