“Stop Being White Trash!”

That’s what the female counterpart yelled at her male companion while he walked at least ten steps ahead of her on Penn Ave. Likewise in anger, there was another old man all sincerely pissed off that he couldn’t find an unlocked entry door at Heinz Hall. Then there was a guy across the street from us arguing with someone passionately. Without knowing the back story, these people were MAD, dammit!

And we certainly had a chuckle at their expense.

It doesn’t happen to me often, but out of impatience, stress, frustration or hunger, I can be a total bitch. And yes, I take this out on AB. But I definitely do not prefer to be this way in public. Other than trying-not-to-cry crying (oddly enough, nearly every time I am drunk), I can usually save our “fights” (if you can even call it that) for home base. But I have experience Being Angry in Public in past relationships. Perhaps, too much.

Before moving to Pittsburgh, I was extremely difficult to be around. For weeks. Thankfully for the boyfriend, he was still traveling each week, thereby encountering my wrath via FaceTime (OMG I hate how that application makes my face look contorted and freckled). EVERYTHING, no matter big or small, stressed me out. I took everything out of context. I took everything personally. And I cried WAY too much for a someone inherently resilient and so set in her ways and… happy. That’s not to say that I have softened upon our arrival here because I am still having minor meltdowns.

We’ve been here for almost one month and are slowly settling into a new relationship structure — one that existed before he took this job in Pitt nearly six months ago. So, since we have technically been “long distance” during this time, learning to be around one another CONSTANTLY can be… well, a challenge. I admit, that I am not the most pleasant person to be around especially when I am bored. Even more so when I expect certain things, but don’t ask for them. “Saving my battles,” if you will, I do not nag (I write everything on a white board on the fridge or memorize it for my kitchen sink). But I DO explode — in tears, typically because these things bottle up, as I’m sure you all know.

I also cannot adjust to his sleep schedule (one that includes him passing out on the couch at 9pm whereas I am usually up until past midnight), therefore, I’m experiencing a bad cycle of insomnia. I probably shouldn’t retire to bed at the same time as him, but you know, I missed that every night. And while I’m sure he didn’t miss my night sweats or my foot reaching all the way across a king-size bed, at least he is sleeping next to me. And somehow that makes me crazy happy.

AB is really good in dealing with my unexpected onslaught of emotions (as I have only seen him angry MAYBE once… and even feeling stressed is new to him). I give him a lot of credit, as he can sense when something is up. If I am stressed, he knows how to talk me down. If I am angry, we can talk through it. If I am generally upset, and don’t really need words or your freaking advice right now, he just hugs. If I’m wrong, well, then he has NO qualms in telling me. And when I’m hungry, he cooks. Even if he tries to kill me with oysters being a listed ingredient in that jar of Asian sauce.

And he knows the location of the nearest cheese shop.

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