Ex-ploration or Ex-ploitation?

There was a time when I used to write about my funny or OMG-that-didn’t-really-happen stories related to ex-boyfriends. When AB & I got together, I stopped. It was a combination of being too happy to dwell in my past misery and a part of letting the past be the past. But I think I might start to share some of those soap operas again, as I feel those memories have a part in shaping how I feel — and who I am both individually and attached — while in a long-term relationship. Plus, some shit is just plain hilarious and needs to be told.

Also, it’s not because I’m suddenly UNhappy, but it was prompted by a stupid irrational argument last night between AB & I, which no doubt caused my “I need an extra hour” deep sleep dream I had this morning about my high school boyfriend, HSS (high school sweetheart). In real life, HSS & I fought with the fury of 100 feral cats, which resulted in five-plus-years of on-and-off-again instability (but oh, first love!). When we were dating, I was ALWAYS mad — it didn’t help that he did a lot of dirty, shitty things that consistently pissed me off. So I yelled. A lot. I threw things and broke things. And I also hit him (once even giving him a well-deserved bloody nose in a club). I even got so mad one afternoon that I flushed an emerald ring he bought me down the toilet. Yes, I was nothing but a Drama Queen and a Total Bitch in one very small, 95-pound package (but whatever, I could box you and punch your lights out — or so my internal bad-assedness told me).

I knew I had anger issues, but they really didn’t subside until he was gone. Or at least until I was ready and able to move on from him emotionally (which took a LONG time, even overlapping several other relationships, mind you).

In my dream though, we both changed — how telling.

And then some scary Russian mobsters were in our Las Vegas suite, asking me for a million dollars to repay them for… something I don’t remember. Even though I was staying on the sixth floor. Or was it the ninth?! Therein lied the rest of my dream, attempting to escape from these two thugs — running up-and-down staircases, not being able to find my room number as I ran down the halls.

What a freaking metaphor.

Back to last night’s… ahem, “discussion.” I sincerely hate when anyone feels they need to “talk down to me” as though I’m unintelligent. I might not be the most logical of thinkers — and because I think differently than you, does not mean I need the conversation “simplified.” Point being, I really DON’T like to be angry. But I also will not let it go if someone is essentially calling me stupid. Which in my mind, was exactly what he was doing. So when AB made a generality after that argument last night that I am “always angry,” my shit hit the roof even worse. And I could just feel my blood boiling. I made him take it back, of course, but I couldn’t shake that emotion for anything. I like to think sometimes that I’ve come a long way since HSS. I’m in, by all accounts, a life partnership with someone for whom I care deeply. But holy hell, watch out for my wrath when I get angry enough that I start losing my voice.

Oh, and of COURSE it was a sex dream.

Duh.

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