Monday 18 September 2006

Sleep for sale.

    Control/Freak.

A text message from Ben last night before I finally banned him from my phone. Nice. And now I have more emotions flying out in a haze of confusion and I grab them and try to stuff them back inside, and I fail.

This is so fucking painful, arguing with Jacob, and yet when we're not up to our ears in the greatest romance of the century, we're waging the war of the roses, snapping at each other through gritted teeth, usually with me biting my lip and attempting not to let the tears spill out while he throws up his hands in frustration, shirtsleeves rolled up because I am the most complicated part of his life and he has to wade right in. You pay a price for everything, eventually. No happy mediums in Bridget's world.

I wouldn't have it any other way, you know.

Jake makes me so crazy.

But hey, aren't you happy to hear that we're normal? That it isn't a perfect fairytale? That we still have bickering moments and neverending arguments and outrageous, bitter, devastating verbal exchanges that leave me reeling, and wondering what the hell I'm doing here, and maybe he doesn't love me in the way that he's supposed to and maybe trying to turn my relationship with him into something more was a colossal error on all counts.

I bet you are.

Those thoughts are heartbreaking, you know. I don't linger there.

And those doubts are the darkest feelings I think I will ever have in this new life as the preacher's wife, let me tell you that for free.

But at the same time I'm permitted now to argue as loud and as excruciatingly as I can, secure in the knowledge that I wanted this life and I will hang onto it at all costs, because I love this man.

But we still don't argue loudly. Even though my lack of volume prevents being able to make my points clearly even if I could speak normally I'd remain within kissing distance and I don't raise my voice there and neither does he. It's our neutral airspace. And within that airspace he tells me things that bother him that make me want to scream and I bite my words into my cheek and don't say them, that's his rare insecurities speaking and they deserve as much attention as everything that's beautiful in the world.

He's afraid to let me out of his sight. He's afraid something will happen to me.

I remind him that we just came through a similar situation with sending the kids to public school. Everyone has got to let go sometime, right? He says he hasn't had enough time with me yet. All to himself. His. He doesn't have to let go because he doesn't want to.

I remind him, once again, that every time I have been hurt I have been in my own home, which is partially why I'm so fucking messed up. All that did was serve to twist the knife that sticks out of his soul, because he couldn't get to me in time. Shit. Stirring up the guilt he carries deep inside isn't going to serve any purpose right now.

Jake..I'm sorry.

Don't be. You're right.

So...?

So I'm still not supporting the idea.

Why the hell not?

Because I get a warm feeling when I think about coming home to you. You fit me perfectly and if you're not here when I get home I'll miss you. I hate that feeling, Bridget. More than anything.

That's never a bad thing. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, you know.

If my heart grew any fonder it would simply absorb you.

Geez, you really know how to turn an argument into one of 'those' moments.

What moments?

Those ones that I will never forget.

Yeah, we make a lot of those ones.

Yes, we do.

So you'll stay home?

Nope.

Aw, Bridge, you make me so crazy.

Well, we have lots of those moments too, don't we.

Too many.

Still love me? Even though I'll be working?

Of course I do and no, you won't be.

Argh, I'm too sick to fight with you right now, Jacob.

Let's pick up later then.

Fine.


So why do I feel like no matter how long we spend on this, he's going to win?

    Scream to no one
    Take your time
    Sing it louder
    Twist and shout

    Nothing to run from is worse than something
    And all your fears of nothing

    And they're swimming around again, again
    And they're swimming around
    The concrete girl