Last night I did laundry and went to wash the (4 days worth of) dishes. I have a bad habit of talking to myself, and spent most of the dishwashing time telling my boyfriend everything I couldn't say to his face. I thought I was doing this pretty well under my breath, but he must've heard me; because when I was done and went to sit on the couch, there was Captain Sensitive with tears in his eyes, laptop packed up, saying that he was going to head back to his mom's the next day.
I sighed. Great, just what I want at 10:30 Sunday night, in the middle of fucking laundry - a weepy, emotional man wanting to be reassured that I care about him, and I'm not breaking up with him, yadda yadda.
I took the opportunity to explain to him that, while I wasn't comparing him to past boyfriends, this relationship seemed to recreate an apparent pattern I have with men: date a while, they quit/lose their job, and move in with me, and I become a primary breadwinner and caregiver. I told him it felt like this was happening again with us. I understand he can't find a job, the economy sucks. But I also finally revealed to him how pissed I was that he quit his job in the first place.
Of course, I had to stop there, because he was getting too emo about being in my house for a month with no job, and watching me begin to seeth with irritation over his continued, unproductive presence and my lack of privacy. I had to get him out of that depressed mood because frankly I cannot deal with fucking emo people. (I'm an optimistic, energetic person as a rule, and people like that just suck the life out of me.)
So, the bottom line is he is going back to his mom's until he gets an actual solid job lead, and I no longer have to pretend he's not driving me bonkers. I'm glad I was able to unburden my thoughts, but I wish he would nut up a little, and not act like everything is so sad inducing. Oh well. He is what he is. At least I can poop with the door open again.
