Cell Phones At 50 Paces

That showdown I mentioned?

I got home today and LJ was waiting by the door, ready to leave as soon as I got home. He was explaining a couple of business things to me--including the info that he's waiting for one of his friends to get out of jail so he can take a little bit of the pressure off LJ. "So I won't be running around as much," he said.

"But you still will," I replied.

"Well, yeah, but it'll be more about some quick money and everything."

"So," I persisted. "Net benefits to me--zero."

He just looked.

"You're not really into this whole having-a-girlfriend thing, are you?" I asked.

"What you mean?" he asked. "I mean, I'm used to it by now..."

"Not the same thing," I told him. "Not the same thing at all. Anyway. Bye..." And closed the door behind him, locking both locks.

I sat down at the computer and couldn't concentrate. "USED to it"??? The FUCK does THAT mean?

Finally I went to my bag to get my cellphone, to communicate in the best way I can manage most of the time: text.

"I don't want someone who's just 'used to me'," I typed. "I want someone who actually thinks I'm worth time & effort. If that's not u, u need 2 let me know."

I stood there with my finger on the "SEND" button for almost fifteen minutes, too scared to light the fuse on this particular stick of dynamite. And then I thought, even if he leaves, what am I going to lose?

I hit "SEND". A couple of minutes later the phone rang.

"Hello?"
"Yeah--what now?"
Oh, fuck you. "You know what? Nevermind."
"What you mean, nevermind?"
"If you're gonna start out with 'what now?' every time I say somethin', then never-fuckin'-mind." (My finger was hovering over the hangup button, at this point--I was properly pissed.)
"You don't never say anything, though!"
Oh, you've gotta be kidding."No, I say it--you don't listen! I have a hard time bringing stuff up like that, so if I open my mouth to say something, you best believe it's because it's actually BOTHERING me!"
"So--what, you think I'm using you or something?"
"Honestly? I don't know WHAT to think. I mean, I feel like I'm a roommate you don't like very much! I'm starting to wonder if maybe you're ashamed of me or something..."
"You think I'm ashamed of you."
"Dude, you never take me out of this house! I don't know WHAT the hell you're thinking, and I feel like I never get an answer out of you no matter how many times I try to find out!"

Long pause.

"Yeah, I hear you. I mean, I don't know...I don't have anything to say, right now, because I'm kinda in the middle...well, not in the MIDDLE of something, but I went outside for a minute to call you and everything."
"I know. We can talk about this later...this isn't...I'm not trying to have a fight over the phone or anything like that. We can talk when you get home."
"Nah...I mean, we've been gonna talk 'later' for like three months, and it ain't happened yet!" (Well hallelujiah--the lights are on after all.)

Things got substantially better from there. The highlights (completely out of context, but still):

Me: "I'm not with you for money, I'm with you for companionship!"

Him: "I take care of my stuff and you take care of everything else. But if you get into a tight spot, who are you gonna ask? And if I ain't got it, how's that gonna make me feel??"

Also him: "You need to know if somethin's botherin' you, that you can bring it to me no matter what."

Me(in reply to "I know when I pull up to that house that everything's all good,"):"That's EXACTLY why I don't bring shit up when you come home! I mean, if I know that whatever I'm gonna say is gonna interrupt your peace and quiet...well YEAH I'm gonna shut up!!" ("Depends on what it is," he replied, which...okay, yeah.)

After about half an hour of talking, I came out with the following impression: I'm dealing with a very functional, no-nonsense man who takes it for granted that if something's bugging me, I'll let him know. (My reluctance to do so is MY problem, not so much his.) And even if he's not affectionate or anything like that, he actually cares about me quite a lot and respects me for sticking with him through the times when he had nothing. (He actually said that last part, which was certainly nice to hear.)

Of course, the conversation ended thus: "I'll probably be out LATE late tonight," he said. "It's _________'s birthday, and..."
"Oh, lord," I said.
"...and it's gonna be a drunk night," he finished.
"So translation: see you tomorrow?"
He laughed. "Somethin' like that. I'll see you tonight or tomorrow morning."

Hopefully this time he'll still have his glasses when he gets home.

I'm not so naive as to think this solves anything, but at least he's been put on notice that all is not well and something's gotta give. We'll see what comes of it.