...though I wish it didn't. Once again, I had planned and okayed a nice date-for-two out with the BF: red lobster, a movie, good times. I was even going to use my birthday "dinner and movie of your choice" voucher. And, once again, that plan was ruined. His phone bill came in. He's made some promise with his mom that he'll keep $1600 in the bank for whatever reason (if he doesn't, she's likely to kick him out or something equally nonsensically drastic) and now he can't afford that nice dinner and a movie. So I say, "okay, fine, you can't help it, we'll just put this off for a bit." That sounds fair, right? I thought so. But he didn't. So he tried to then give me this long lecture about how I rub things in even if I don't mean to, and now he feels bad so he's just going to charge dinner and all that wonderful dramatic shit.
Shit. Yes. Dramatic Shit.
I refused this because he's always telling me about how he hates charging things, he'd rather pay cash, yadda yadda yadda. Not worth the hassle. So I say fuck that, we'll just wait and do it next month, okay? September. Second thursday of the month. We good? We good. But no. Of course that's not good enough for him, he has to try and guilt me into letting him just take me out to Friendly's (shitty food, good ice cream). It went on like that for a good hour and a half or so.
So now our wonderful date has turned into walking the mall and getting dinner in the food court. Ooh. Chez Chic-fil-a anyone?
It's the same thing we do every week. What a date.
The worst part is that I'm disappointed. Not in him, he can't help the phone bill. I'm disappointed in me, because this always happens whenever we plan on dates where he has to pay. Even he admits it. Something comes up and all of the sudden he has to back out. I'm disappointed in me because I didn't see this coming. So I go to work today for three hours, change in the bathroom into some jeans and a teeshirt, and then I walk outside and drive with him to the mall. Just like always. Hooray.
2 comments:
Talk about emo.....
Yeah, Kate, that's pretty damned emo. Next, you'll be writing crappy poems about longing for death's sweet embrace or some such nonsense. Suck it up and just punch him in the face, it'll whip him right into shape. And if not, you'll feel better.
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