Yesterday was my birthday. I thought I would get one day (somewhat) free of abuse. I mean, I know he tends to ruin holidays with his miserable attitude and moods. But my birthday, I honestly thought would be alright. Or as alright as it can be in an abusive relationship. I don’t make any plans. I can’t. I don’t see my friends. He didn’t even remember it really. Last month he asked me if my birthday was in January, but he wasn’t sure what day. He had no idea. I told him. I told him again not long ago when he asked. Then he asked me yet again the day before:
Him: “Your birthday is on the 9th, right?”
The next morning (yesterday) he didn’t say anything. Right before I left for work I asked him if he knew what day it was. He said “No. Why?” I just looked at him. “It’s not the 9th? No, it’s the 8th today.” I replied that it’s the 9th. He then said he thought it was the 8th, wished me happy birthday, said I’m the best thing in the world (bullshit) and his favourite (more bullshit).
Skip forward to the evening. He came home with presents and asked me who got me flowers (my mom did). I knew he would demand to know that. I must say, he got me two really nice gifts, although unwrapped and no card. He’s good at gift-giving, but I’ve come to realize it’s only for his own benefit. It’s so he looks like a good boyfriend. After Christmas he asked me if I told people what he got me and wanted to know what they thought. The first time we broke up he said to me “make sure you tell your family that I treated you good.” Ya. He actually said that.
Back to my birthday. He asked me if I wanted to go out to dinner and a movie. While getting ready he complained that we weren’t going to make the movie by the time we finished dinner. I saw that coming. He asked me what my plans for the following day were since I was suppose to be driving my dad to pick up his new car and then stopping by to see my friend. When I mentioned that I would be driving an extra hour in order to see my friend, who I haven’t seen in almost three months, he got pissy and said “Well that’s really inconvenient. You should just reschedule.” I explained that it wasn’t that easy since I had to work around her work schedule as well and that this was one of few opportunities that we had the same day off. Plus I don’t mind putting in the effort to visit a friend. He replied, “Fuck I wouldn’t even do that for you.” Really. To my boyfriend, I’m apparently not worth driving an extra hour for.
We went to my second choice of restaurant because there was too much of a line-up at my first. He’s not a fan of this restaurant. He prefers my first choice. He “let” me choose a table. How generous. I chose one I thought HE would like. Yes, even on my birthday I was considering what he would prefer rather than what I would. I chose one that was away from the center (because I thought he hated being in the middle of everyone, as I do.) I was even conscious of the seat I chose. I chose the side facing the bar because I thought he’d want to watch the TV behind me. He immediately asked to switched spots. I said ok, but also explained why I had chosen that seat. He then said “nevermind I’ll just sit like this” and proceeded to sit on the chair on an angle away from me and towards the bar. Where all the pretty bartenders and waitresses happened to be. You would think that he would want to face me, his girlfriend that he claims to love.
First he started off complaining about the lack of food choice for him on the menu and that there wasn’t enough for him to eat. Then he started in on me about not smiling. He said his dad had mentioned how on New Year’s I had looked miserable. He bitched at me for “making him look bad” and “giving the wrong impression of our relationship to everyone,” and that that was why “that lesbian bitch asked you to dance.” I was stunned. I was actually surprised. He was picking a fight with me on my birthday. In public. We argued about the “lesbian bitch” (see my last post) and how I didn’t think she was a lesbian, that girls can be friendly and ask eachother to dance at the bar. He called me naive. He said, “only drunk dumb slutty girls ask each other to dance” and dismissed my claims that it was possible to without being a lesbian. I said I did it all the time (not completely true but not entirely a lie either). I made friends at the bar so I guess that made me a “dumb slutty girl.” He replied to this with “you can’t make true friends at the bar. There’s no such thing,” to which I replied that that wasn’t the point, that it was just being nice, having a good time, and meeting people. He challenged me, saying that I’m not friends with anyone I met in a bar, that you wouldn’t meet someone there that would remain in your life. I explained people come and go and there’s no harm in enjoying people in between the ones who remain in your life for good. He dismissed that entirely: “I’m done with the in-betweens.” I said, “Well that’s fine for you.” He called it ridiclous that I didn’t agree with him. He went back to how he was told I looked miserable that night. I said it wasn’t an entirely wrong impression. He actually looked surprised.
Him: What do you mean? I sat with you all night.
Me: Ya, but you had a conversation the whole night with that older man. Oh wait, I guess that means he’s gay, right? He was just hitting on you? It’s ok for you to have a conversation all night with a man but a woman asks me to dance and it can only mean she’s a lesbian. Is that right?
Then he started in on how I was again making him look bad in public by giving him a “bitch face” and that everyone in the restaurant must be looking on thinking that we look nothing like a happy couple. And what he was getting at is that this was MY fault. I told him, “what do you expect when you pick a stupid fight with me in public? You actually expect me to be all smiley right now?” He said no but that I could “simmer it down.” I replied: “All you care about is appearances. You don’t give a shit about my feelings because if you did rather than blaming me for “making you look bad” and assuming that’s what I was doing, you would ask me, upon hearing that I looked sad, what was wrong. But instead you hear I look sad and immediately get angry at me and attack me.” Clearly he doesn’t love me.
In between all this he continued complaining about the seat he was in and the table we were at. Really. He’s out to dinner with his girlfriend for her birthday and one of his main concerns is where he is sitting. He angrily, and I mean ANGRILY complained about “being in a fucking corner” and “having to stare at a fucking wall with [my] back to everyone in the bar.” Let me remind you that he was at dinner with me for my birthday and it wasn’t enough to want to sit with me and look at me and talk to me. He wanted to face away from me and blamed me in anger for his seating situation. It is actually crushing to realize and accept that.
We argued some more abut New Year’s and I kept standing up to him. He started saying that he was done talking about it but I carried on trying to make my point (fruitless, I know, but it feels necessary to stand up for myself). He suddenly snapped “just shut up!” just as our waitress came around to put our cutlery on the table. She definitely heard it but she showed no signs. The look of terror on his face was fleeting but satisfying because he had just exposed himself as the very thing he was attacking me for. From that point on and throughout our meal we sat in silence. He tried putting his mask on. He gave me his best angelic face and tried to act as if nothing happened. He tried to make conversation with me. I wasn’t giving him much in return and he said “you’re just pissed of eh.” Duh.
Upon returning home I was so upset I just started getting ready for bed. I was in the washroom plucking my eyebrows when he came in and said “nothing like plucking eyebrows on your birthday.” I wanted to retort with “nothing like fighting on your birthday” but instead I just said “ya well it’s gotta be done.” He was right in my face and said “ya ya. Facebook that shit.” Cue entrance into a new fight. He angrily carried on.
Him: Do you still have Facebook?
Him: When’s the last time you were on it?
Me: I dunno, like a month ago. (a lie since I had actually just been on it that day because my mom said she had posted something on my wall for my birthday but I wasn’t going there with him.)
Him: What do you do when you’re on it?
Me: Not much. See what’s up with my old classmates, look at pics my mom puts up. That’s about it.
Him: How many people do you have on it?
Me: I don’t know.
Him: What do you mean you don’t know? Do you have alot or no?
Me: Not alot, no.
Him: What’s that mean? What’s not alot?
Me: I don’t know Mike fuck. Like I said I’m not on it alot. I don’t have it memorized.
Him: Well ballpark it! 50? 100? 200?
Me: I don’t know! Could be 50, could be 100, could be 200. I don’t remember.
Him (walking away): Holy fuck it’s impossible to get an answer out of you. You’re so fucking complicated. Can’t give any details. Is your name even Jennifer?
I went upstairs to “read.” I was really texting my friend informing her of everything that had taken place that night. We talked for two hours, until I told her that I should probably get to bed and try to get some sleep because I knew as soon as he came upstairs to bed I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I think I got maybe an hour before he came up, turned the TV on, bounced around in bed and thrashed the sheets around, successfully waking me up and keeping me awake. I had so much anxiety. I wanted so badly to go downstairs and sleep on the couch but I was afraid to move. I was afraid to move because if I move it reminds him that I’m there and then he will start in on me. This is a regular occurrence. So I laid there almost all night, too anxious to sleep. I got maybe another hour of sleep at most.
In the morning, like a good obedient girlfriend, I still woke him up for work. He came downstairs and the first thing he said was “you gotta make sure you close that backdoor properly. If you don’t it lets a huge draft in.” No good morning. No apology. Then he sees my food, goes to the fridge and asks “where’s my breakfast?” In case I haven’t already mentioned this, he never eats breakfast. But he has a habit of getting angry at me for making it for myself. I once made it for him and he didn’t eat it, telling me he can’t eat in the morning. He always goes to Tim’s and gets a tea bisquit because that’s all that his stomach can handle. So clearly he was just being an asshole. “Eat an orange,” I replied. He stomped across the living room and said “I guess I’ll go fucking buy some breakfast” (which is what he does every morning). He continued, “I’ll go buy some breakfast and go to work to pay for the 800 bills I have.” He resents the fact that I had the day off and that I don’t pay those bills. He claims to not care that I don’t pay because he knows I can’t afford it, yet he still makes comments like this. As if I don’t have my own bills. “What’s the cable bill at now? $600?Three months combined?” I reminded him that we had only had the one bill and it was at $200. It is in my name because “if it’s in [my] name [he’ll] be sure to pay it because [he] cares about [my] credit, not [his] own.” He has yet to pay it and it’s 3 weeks late. So much for caring about my credit. He once drunkenly told me that I had no right to speak in this relationship because I didn’t pay rent. He even complained to his buddy that I don’t pay for anything. Even though we had made an agreement between us of who pays for what. I pay for groceries because that’s about all I can afford, and even that’s a stretch given what he wants me to buy. So you see how he uses this as another means to abuse me.
He started talking about all his dog’s shit out on the beach and how he needed to pick it up. For the record, he mentions this alot, and I get the distinct impression that he’s really hinting at that I should do it, since he has told me that he “doesn’t pick up dog shit.” He said: “I’ll get a bin lined with a bag and just dump it all in. I’l make you carry the bin. You can carry the shit for an hour.” That WOULD give him great satisfaction, given the hatred he feels for me. I tried to ignore him by pretending to read my book. He egged me on until I glared at him and said “What?” He replied, “Nothing. I thought I was talking to someone, not a wall.” He walked across the room and continued sarcastically “Have a nice day. Drive safe. Get rid of me. Do whatever you gotta do. Have fun driving 8 hours today.” And with that he slammed the door shut.
There you have it. My birthday with my abusive boyfriend. No apology. No hint of remorse. He feels completely justified in his abuse towards me because according to him, I hurt him by looking sad and thereby ruined the impression he wants to project to the public. What’s more interesting is that he didn’t even notice how miserable I was that evening. Several other people did, but my boyfriend didn’t because he’s more focused on himself. I am remaining firmly angry on this one. No way is he going to turn this on me. No way.