2:46 p.m. - August 29, 2001
Actions speak LOUDER than words
Actions speak louder than words.
I woke up this past Sunday morning, to prepare for my departure for NYC. I hadn't slept very well the night before because I was anxious. I've had a lot of (relatively good) stress, preparing for this event. I was nervous and excited and anxious, and was getting ready to depart for the airport within the next two hours when the phone rang. It was my boss. Her husband was going to drop her off at the airport and she offered me a ride. At first, I accepted her offer. Then, I realized that I didn't really want my boss coming over to my house because it was a filthy mess. My cleaning lady had cancelled two weeks ago, and had just cancelled AGAIN two days prior. Plus, Walter has decided that he doesn't need to pick up after himself, so the kitchen sink was full of smelly dishes. I asked Walter if he could help me out by picking up around the house. He not only refused, but then proceeded to lecture me about how cleaning the dishes is my "one-and-only job around the house" and that he had actually had to clean the kitchen up last time. I reminded him that he cleaned up the kitchen last time because they were all his dishes. I also told him that I didn't mind doing the dishes but that I was severly strapped for time...and MY BOSS was coming over. He again refused and lectured me some more. He told me that if I wanted the kitchen clean for my boss, then I would have to do it myself. He went back into the den to continue reading the newspaper, drinking coffee, and watching television. I reminded him AGAIN of the arrangement we had made - that I would clean the dishes when he would cook dinner...but that he needed to pick up after himself at other times. I felt it wasn't fair to me to have to continue to clean up his dirty dishes. He then made some smartass comment that I was treating him more like a roommate. It was ok for him to voice his opinion (or rather, tell me what to do) but it was NOT ok for me to discuss this with him AT ALL. By opening my mouth to speak, I was suddenly debating him and he didn't want to debate. I was blowing everything out of proportion, making a bigger thing out of something insignificant. I was "going overboard again." This argument continued to escalate. Walter was screaming and cursing me AGAIN and I didn't need that. I lost it. I totally lost it. I exploded red hot flames from my body. I could feel the veins in my neck bulging. I yelled at him that I was not his fucking child, I was sick of him talking to me like a fucking child, I was sick of him telling me what to fucking do and how to fucking do it and how to fucking act and how to fucking feel. I was sreaming, "Fuck you, Walter! Fuck you, Walter! Fuck you, Walter!" (I said this at least a half dozen times).
I walked into the bathroom, to continue getting ready. I could hear him pocketing my car keys. I walked back into the den and asked for my car keys. He refused, saying that he was going to drive me to the airport.
Here's a bit of background...
Several weeks ago, I was stranded in the heart of the Montrose - alone. It was just before midnite, on a Friday night. Walter didn't want to join me and my friends dancing, so he dropped me off in front of the club. My friends never showed. I called him ON A FRIDAY NIGHT BEFORE MIDNITE and told him that I was alone, and stranded. He refused to come and pick me up, saying he was going to work in the morning and that he was tired. He told me to go back into the club and find someone to call me a cab. Seriously. Yet, days before my trip to NYC, Walter said that he would drop me off at the airport on Sunday and then drive (45 minutes) to pick me up from the airport (at midnight) ON A WEEKNIGHT when he had to work at 7AM the night morning. Why, you might ask? Because he was "willing to make that sacrifice" so that he could have the Trooper while I was gone.
You have some FUCKED UP PRIORITIES buddy.
So, here we are having this UGLY fight AGAIN (yet this time it is worse than ever) and he is pocketing my car keys and telling me that he is driving me to the airpot. "Fuck you, Walter!" You are NOT driving me to the FUCKING airport because I am not going anywhere with you. Give me my fucking car keys. (This went on for awhile) He wouldn't give me my car keys.
Again, I returned to the bathroom to finish getting ready. I called my mother and she "just knew" that I REALLY needed a ride to the airport, because she didn't even ask any questions. Walter then took my keys and my car and left.
Fuck you, Walter.
So, I went to NYC.
After having a lovely evening dining on the water at Fulton Street Market, I returned to my hotel room and checked my Palm for e-mails. There was a bogus e-mail from Walter, yet another empty apology. More psycho-babble that meant a whole lotta nothing. Empty words filling a page:
"Whew! do we ever know how to say goodbye to each other. Losing my temper and saying hurtful things is my fault. I swore to myself that I would not do this ever again, regardless of what you said or did."
(Whatever the fuck THAT means)
It continues...
"So I broke my promise to myself. Please accept my aplogy for losing my temper. Nothing is ever accomplished when my voice is raised in anger, as is evident. What I said is what I still believe..."
(Whatever the fuck THAT means)
..."I just wish that my temper had not intruded. We must have MUTUAL RESPECT and CONSIDERATION for each other."
(Ya know what!? That's what I've been saying to YOU, Walter. And how in the FUCK is it that you are suddenly a damn expert on mutual respect and condsideration when you DON'T LISTEN TO ME, DON'T CARE WHAT I THINK OR WHAT I SAY and tell me what to fucking do all the fucking time) - that would be a rhetorical question. We ALL know the truth. Empty words.
I'm sick of empty & hollow words. The last time he was apologizing to me, I responded with, "Aplogize with your actions, Walter - because you words don't mean shit to me right now."
And ya know what!? That don't mean to shit to me right now.
I'm ready.
My huge-ass event is over and I can go back to living and dealing with my life again.
I'm ready to deal with it.
