Hold on to Your Horses

Scott and I got into a major fight last night. I don't know what's going to happen.

The fight itself was over something so trivial that I feel silly recounting it now. I got home from work to find Scott sleeping on the couch. While this is not unusual, it is irritating. His sleep schedule is out of whack and he'll sleep all afternoon and night, only to awake at 12:30 (long after I've gone to bed) and will stay up all night watching TV.

If we lived in an apartment with separate floors, this wouldn't be an irritant. Also it would probably be less of an irritant if we lived in an apartment with doors, but alas, loft living is not so. After one night of me listening to Spanish infomercials, I arose at 4 am to go to work at 5 am, because if I was awake at this hour, what's the point? I came home from work that day with heavy, opaque curtains and hung them to separate the bedroom from the living room. It helps with the light, but not much else.

I shook him awake after I walked in the door yesterday and received a warm, "Let me sleep, goddammit." So I did. Out of courtesy to him, I went in the bedroom and watched my newest Blockbuster rental. But when 8 pm rolled around and the movie was over and I was hungry, I left the bedroom to make dinner.

According to Scott, it was the noisiest bologna sandwich ever made. Tired of living in my bedroom and indignant over the whole situation, I sat down in the living room with my sandwich, and turned the volume of the TV DOWN and changed the channel.

He got up and stomped around the living room, calling me a lot of unflattering names. "If you want to continue sleeping, go into the bedroom--that's what it's there for," I said coolly. He called me more names and I repeated myself. He stomped in the bedroom and then I heard the remotes for my TV and DVD player go clacking across the room and thud against the wall. He threw the remotes across the room.

I have never been with anyone who throws temper tantrums before, and I don't know how to handle it. Do you baby them and concede to their wishes? Do you remove yourself from the situation? I've tried both of those, and while they seem to work short term, they don't cut down on the amount of tantrums, or even the severity of the tantrums. I have a broken table in the closet to prove it.

This time I chose to confront the tantrum. Calling me names, throwing my things over a nap? Who is this person? If he wanted to war, we would war.

And war we did. Shouting on both sides, he eventually bucked up to me--stood over me really aggressively and gave me the crazy eye.

"What are you doing? I'm not afraid of you! You're gonna hit me? Are you a man now?" I shouted it again for emphasis, "Are you a man now?" The name-calling, the breaking of (conveniently only my) things, the always being on his schedule, I wasn't going to back down this one time.

Scott went for the ol' escape hatch, "We're not married! We don't have to be in this relationship!" I've told him time and time again that I need to be able to fight with him without him pulling the If-I-don't-get-my-way-I'll-just-leave-you card. Every tangle, no matter how small, he plays it. He always apologizes and promises never to do it again, but he does. The last time we talked about it, he told me to call him out with it by using our code word. When I did, all he said was, "Fuck you!" so clearly code words mean nothing. I told him the next time he did that, I would call his bluff.

I think I shouted something about good riddance and I know I opened the door to let him leave, which he refused to do. At first he shouted something about coming to our senses, but at this point, I was too angry. He wanted to be done, so we were. Get out. He went out on the patio to smoke and I looked at my dinner which I never got to eat.

As with the great uncorking of emotions, I felt drained and empty. And a bit remorseful. I also felt better. Sometimes I just have to yell and get it all out, and then I feel good again, even if nothing is resolved.

He came back inside the apartment. "You want to talk?" I offered.

"No, I'm done with you."

"Okay," and I went into the bedroom and packed my things.

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah, you don't want to talk, so what's the point of being here?"

"I'm over it. I'm done."

And I took my bag and my dog and I drove over to my step-sister's. Upon hearing the story, she ordered me to march back to my apartment, because it is my apartment, and if anyone was to leave, it would be Scott.

I also called his sister, who didn't answer. I left a message saying that we broke up and I wanted her advice on how to handle him when he gets like this, but if her loyalty kept her from calling me back, I understood.

I walked in to find him gathering up laundry from the dryer. "Jennifer said this is my apartment, and if anyone is going to leave, you are."

"Who's Jennifer?"

"My sister whom you promised you would be good to me!"

"Don't call her and make me look like I'm the bad guy in this!"

"Oh no," I laughed. "I told her I egged you on!"

Scott began folding his clothes, and we talked for the first time. I told him I would go to my grave before I ever admit to purposely and spitefully being noisy in the kitchen to wake him up because it is simply. not. true. He said he tossed the remotes, he didn't throw them, which was the catalyst of my wrath.

He left to go put his clothes away and I thought back to the whole fight and how escalated it got over something so stupid. I felt remorse. I didn't mean for it to get out of hand; I just wanted to eat my sandwich not in my bedroom because his highness monopolizes the couch. I followed him in to the bedroom and stood at the door of the closet and I apologized for everything, which I shouldn't have done, but I just wanted it to be over.

He said regardless of what happens between us, he's moving out. He said I was right when I told him it was too soon for him to move in. He said he hates this apartment and he didn't choose to live here. It was my fault because of the flooding at my last one.

I asked what was going to happen to us, and he said he didn't know. That he wants to wait until everything calms down to make any decisions so things won't get worse. He said he's done it before. He said he's done it before with me. We agreed that he would sleep on the couch and I would get the bedroom until we decide what happens next.

And then I remembered my panicked phone call to his sister. Oh crap. There's no way of us ever repairing anything if he knew I called his family. I stole another phone call to her and apologized into her voicemail and please just forget I called, because we all have our insane moments.

The hour before bed was stone silent as we pretended to watch Mission: Impossible on AMC. He fell asleep again on the couch, and I turned everything off and went to bed. A couple of hours later I awoke to the noises of him walking into the bedroom, stripping, and getting into bed. I don't know what that's all about.

This morning his sister calls me. She was really great and supportive and we had a nice long talk. I told her about the tantrums and she said her husband did that the first couple of years they were married. Her husband had also bucked up on her before. I told her sometimes I feel so alone handling Scott on my own; I've never been in these situations before in my life. She blames his drinking for his Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality and insists that he stop drinking altogether. Yesterday was a Monday, so if course he was left to his own devices all day. Who knows what he had. She also blames the drinking for disrupting his sleeping patterns. She told me that I could call her anytime and she wouldn't tell Scott, and she told me how often and how highly he speaks of me to all his family, so she doubted this was it. I hung up feeling less like a freak.

I haven't talked to Scott all day and I don't know what's waiting for me when I go home tonight. Normally this would reduce me to a sniveling mess, but today I am okay. I'm optimistic. He climbed into bed with me last night. He mentioned last night that we would work things out. He didn't call his family after the fight and normally he does.

But there is also the chance I could be so miserably wrong.