0-Bitch in 1.8 seconds

Yup, folks. It happened. I officially got "the blog" thrown in my face tonight.

While I was trying to be respectful of an argument (that's of course my fault) I spun some of my written words around to convey to my readers that nothing ever was amiss. The boyfriend sees no lines of respect, seeing as how I am just a bitch and I should write about what really happened.

Which is the following: Last Friday, I get home earlier than the boyfriend from work. I am hungry – shocking. An hour later, he arrives and says he would like to relax for "20 minutes" before we leave for the restaurant. I get ready to go out. He's still watching tv. I decide to make a phone call, in a bold attempt to preoccupy myself and not start to nag.

Boyfriend decides he needs a shower now. He's in the bathroom for another half hour. I am still hungry. He makes a phone call in his boxer shorts in the kitchen… Then I start to nag him to get dressed. Phone call and nakedness persist.

Phone call ends. Again, I ask him to get ready and reiterate my hunger pains. I'm pretty sure he tries to keep touching my ass. Then, he then BLAMES ME for his lax attitude because I was on the phone. Again, I was only trying to pass time. I am ready to go. But now I am hungry and fuming.

I stew in silence on the drive to the restaurant. We have to wait about ten minutes for a table. Once seated, he starts awkward conversations with me as though we were online buddies meeting in person for the first time. I preoccupy my annoyances by watching the Indians game on the tv over my shoulder.

The food takes nearly an hour to reach our table. It tastes awful and pisses me off even more, since I was totally craving Mexican. Again, more awkward dinner conversation. He gets combative when I ask him his reasons for wanting to travel to Italy again and not somewhere new. I like challenging conversation. He apparently, does not. I decide I will shut up.

We decide together to head to Boneyard instead of the movies. After parking, he starts once again generalizing my mood and attitude and provoking me with the overuse of the word "normal" in reference to my being quiet and/or moody (but I'm almost positive he said bitchy, again, no mood — I am just not myself and being quiet and quick-witted).

Fed up, I say forget it and head back to the car to go home. I yell at him in the parking lot in front of other people. I think I heard them laugh. He just won't shut up.

A bit of peace on the drive home, and he has the nerve to complain about my music volume. I make a sarcastic remark about his hearing problems while watching tv. He argued something that, to me, sounds hopeless. I tell him to just shut up (again). Just shut the FUCK UP. Silence, except for The Fire and The Reason on my stereo. He wants me to stop for chew. He quit two weeks ago and I won't allow it. I drive past the convenience store.

I hear him make a phone call when we get home, assuming he's making plans with friends. I do the same. I go out for drinks, close down the bar and get home around 2:30am.

The boyfriend? Oh, HE NEVER CAME HOME. And it's his fucking house. Expecting some shenanigans, I get a story about a hotel room 30-minutes away in Independence, where he apparently spent the evening alone… with chew.

(My question: why is "bitch" the instant go-to word for men?) – Back to today's fight, I tell him if he'd like me to go into detail about it on my blog (as well as some other not-so-nice moments in our courtship), I would. So here it is, from my thought process.

Then I got the remark, "Are you going to tell them what really happened?" And he says the word "normal" another eight fucking times.

I said, so matter-of-factly, "It's my blog."

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