One fugging downhill slope

"How's your afternoon going?" Jack typed through our IM system.

"My feelings are a little hurt," and I proceeded to tell him that an hour earlier our mutual friends canceled on us for other plans and that tonight when he came out with me, it would just be my friends and no one he knew.

"I'm sorry. That's not right at all. You know how worked up I get over stuff like this," he wrote back, not even acknowledging the newfound awkwardness of the night. "Do you mind if I give them a call to discuss this with them?"

I sighed, the anxiety and the hurt feelings immediately disappeared. He cared enough to want to help with the situation. He wanted to protect my feelings. Most importantly, I didn't have to shoulder the entire burden of everything anymore. Here was someone who wanted to help.

He had a good time Friday night. The night wasn't as fantastic as I planned: there was a different DJ and a decidedly smaller group, but alcohol poured freely into our glasses and he got to meet my closest friend. Another one of our mutual friends, E2--I got to know her last weekend when I roadtripped with her for St. Patrick's Day--came out with her boyfriend and was a flurry of fun. Overall, the evening was a success.

Saturday morning, it became apparent that Jack didn't remember the end of Friday night. He didn't remember us going to the scary grocery store in the bad part of town. He didn't remember us ripping our clothes off and how I got the gigantic bruise on my shoulder. He didn't remember the sex at all, which really embarrassed me, but he assured me he felt worse. "It's like hearing about someone else's sex life," he told me when I filled him in. He has a bad memory as it is, but he was really unsettled over the blankness of the night before. I tried to remind him that he drank more than me and that when tequila and Irish Car Bombs are involved, blankness is probably not that unusual.

Throughout the weekend, Jack pointed out things I needed to work on as they came up. I'm too competitive. I walk too fast when I'm hungry or in a hurry. I can't listen to a story without speaking "whatever pops into [my] head." It wears me down to constantly have flaws pointed out to me. To constantly feel like I'm not good enough.

When the bill came for dinner Saturday night, I offered to pay or at least to chip in. He refused. "I want to do good by you. I'm trying. I'm really trying." I smiled and kissed him and everything was right again.

I put in a movie when we got home. It was a long day shopping and doing some organizing at his place. I dozed a couple of times during the movie which is one of his pet peeves. I tried to put my head in his lap, just to be affectionate, and he lectured me that if I wanted to sleep, we should just go to bed. I didn't want to force him to stop watching the movie because I was tired, so I just sat back up. I nodded off on his shoulder and woke up gasping for air, to which he asked if there was something wrong with me.

He's hypercritical of me and it makes me afraid of him. That's why I was so afraid of falling asleep that I awoke with a start. He doesn't criticize me on anything important. I know better than to change somebody, so it's up to me whether or not I want to work on these things for him. It's nothing big, so maybe none of this is a big deal, but I don't want to cause myself so much anguish over someone who may not stick around. I honestly think people wouldn't be so hard on me if they only knew how hard I am on myself. That I take criticism to heart. I really want to please people in life because I have so few people to please.

That pretty much set the pace for Sunday morning. He had been away from his place for too long. However, instead of getting up and leaving, he just sat around and complained about it. I didn't really know what to do. If he wanted to leave, he should have left. Instead he told me how he wanted to go home and recharge. How he gets grumpy if he doesn't spend time alone. I'm not his keeper. I didn't try and keep him there. He even complains that I don't try to keep him when he wants to get off the phone. Anytime he said, "I need to go home, " I said, "Okay." I don't know what his problem was, but he hung around for another hour, telling me how he didn't want to be there. I tried to get him to smile and he said he doesn't smile much. It just make me feel like I did something wrong and he completely dragged me down with him.

I understand the need to be alone. I need to restock the food in my apartment. I need to pay bills. I need to catch up on my movies so Blockbuster will quit calling me. I just wish he would have left when he originally wanted to instead of getting all foul about it. When he finally walked out the door, I was deflated. Instead of smiling over the good times (and there were a lot of good times), I sat on my couch and fought back the tears.

Against my better judgment, I called Jack before I went to bed that night. He clearly didn't want to be on the phone, but I just wanted to see if he was in a better mood after spending the day alone. He said he was, although he didn't sound like it, probably because I called him. Because I can't do one thing right. He did try and make small talk, but it was me who felt small. Jack said in the future we should only spend one weekend night together, which is fine with me because I have my Friday night thing anyway. I told him as much.

Maybe slowing things down will be better until we can actually handle each other's personalities. Or maybe this is the beginning of the end. I have a birthday coming up and I'm about to finish my paper diary and either one always results in a breakup, let alone both of them combined. I don't know what's going to happen. If things are going to end, maybe they should just end now before feelings are involved.

E2 told me to be careful. That he broke her friend's heart. I told Jack this the night he doesn't remember and maybe that's a good thing. That way he won't remember telling me he knows I'm scared but he really likes me and plans to stick around.