*G shaking and tapping me*
Me: I roll over, sleepy eyed, “What?!”
Him: “Do you suck me?!”
Me: “Wha… no?…?!?!?! What the fuck?!”, I roll over and go back to sleep.
I wish you could hear how he says it. He refers to blowjays as being “sucked on”. Ugh, ew! When he wants a beej, he goes, “Suck me?!”. He says it kind of like an Asian man at a restaurant, asking you if you would like some additional “Suk mi” with your order. And he always says it with a raised inflection on the “me”, so it always sounds like a question. It is really very tragic.
I slept for another hour or so, until he woke me up a second time — asking, “Are you mad at me?!”. Once again, my response was more or less: “Whaaa…??? No?!?! I am asleep, what the fuck are you talking about?!?!” — and I rolled over and attempted to go back to sleep. He told me that he had a bad dream, where we were fighting, and he needed me to “love him” and “hold him now” (Yes, like the Thompson Twins song), because he was “scared”. This was completely beyond me, this was too stupid for even me to put up with. I told him I was fucking asleep, I have no idea what he’s talking about, and that he’s being ridiculous and to go back to bed. He responded by angrily turning over and covering his head with the blanket. Like a 5 year old. I rolled my eyes and went back to sleep.
I wake up a couple hours later, still slightly annoyed, but hopped in the shower and proceeded to get dressed and ready anyways, so by the time G woke up, we’d be able to go out for lunch like we had made plans to do the night before. I wasn’t going to let anything ruin my last full day with him. He, however, had other plans.
I was sitting behind a partition in the room, finishing up the last little bit of my makeup, when I hear, “ADRIENNE?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!”. To which I replied, as would anyone else with a firm grasp on the English language and possibly reality, “What?!”. WELL, that was the final straw for HIM, let me tell you!
He doesn’t respond, so I figure something is wrong. I walk out from behind the partition and he is curled up in a ball, on the bed, with the blanket pulled up to his eyes, on the verge of tears. At this point, I’ve dealt with far beyond my maximum capacity of this premenstrual, crybaby, bullshit for the day, and bluntly ask him, “What the fuck are you doing?!”. He ignored me for around 5 minutes, while I am asking him such questions as: “Are you seriously mad because I responded with “WHAT” when you called my name? What the fuck did you expect me to do, bust out in song and dance?!”, “Are you still seriously upset about this morning?”, “Why the hell are you crying?!”.
someone's upset with the current happenings.
