Blurting – Part 2
Why is my mind going crazy? Why can’t I stop the thoughts, and all the anxiety and the worries flying around in my head?? Am I just feeling poorly about myself? Feeling uncomfortable in my own skin, and constantly worrying about what The Cowboy is thinking or feeling. It’s not that anything in particular happened to precipitate it all. I have tried to be very patient about the job situation, and the way I talk to him about it. I know he feels bad because he lost “the good job”. He hasn’t told his parents, or any of his friends back home, about getting fired from “the good job”. He is embarrassed. I understand, but he needs a job. I am worried about money. I dip into my savings every week to make it through. I can’t continue to do that. I have told him how much I need his help paying the bills, especially when my ex and I re-negotiate the custody agreement with our son.
I am not totally attached to my phone. The Cowboy communicates with a lot of his friends by text message. This would include male and female friends. He thinks I am jealous of how many text messages and phone calls he receives. I am not. I have told him that if my phone was blowing up that much it would drive me crazy. He doesn’t have a smart phone, and he says he doesn’t want one. He is able to check Facebook on his phone, but he can’t see any photos, etc., and receives notifications by text. He tells me he thinks I am nosey about his phone, because sometimes if his phone is blowing up, I will say, things like, “Is that your “boyfriend” Toothless??” I say it jokingly. Half the time he just volunteers the information and tells me who it is. I really don’t think I pester him about it, and it doesn’t seem like a big deal to me. What’s funny is I ran down the street yesterday to get ice. I came back and my phone was laying face down and it had turned off. I thought this was very strange, because I always lay it face up, and the only time I turn it off, is if it needs to be rebooted. So, I wondered if he’d looked at my phone, trying to see who texts me, or who calls me. Did I ask him if he did? No. Leads me to believe that he doesn’t trust me as much as he says he does.
I don’t like jealousy. For the most part I think it’s an unnecessary, destructive emotion. That being said, I do have twinges of it from time to time. The Cowboy doesn’t usually help these twinges by the things he says. Take for instance, a conversation we had this weekend regarding blow jobs, and proficiency. He informs me that I do not give the best blow job he has ever had. “B”, from 20 plus years ago, is still the Blow Job Queen in his book. When he says this it bothers me. Silly, huh? Today I’m trying to figure out which is sillier: me feeling jealous about him thinking “B” is still the Blow Job Queen, or him being able to remember, or really believing, that she still gives the best blow jobs after 20 years??
I am not the type of person who, when in a relationship, needs to be told all the time that I am wonderful, and beautiful, and the most amazing at everything. However, it has been bothering me lately that I don’t seem to get any types of kudos, or atta-girls. So, this weekend, I just come right out and ask The Cowboy if he really even likes, if he even thinks I am special. You know what he tells me? “You’re a pretty good ‘ol gal.” Really?? What the fuck does that mean? I mean right now, I am thinking I am pretty much a fucking saint in most people’s books. Not only have I been patient and understanding about the job situation, I have also been patient about not getting any money for living expenses, I have made sure The Cowboy has food to eat and beer to drink, and because his pickup needs work on it, I was also lucky enough to be given a car, which he has been given to drive, that he didn’t have to pay the tags or insurance on, and that he doesn’t put gas in. And the best he can say is that I’m a pretty good ‘ol gal?? I think he needs to try harder, because I think in most people’s books that would at a bare minimum, make me “the best girlfriend ever”. I don’t need him to tell me that every day, but a fucking thank you every once in awhile would be nice. The Cowboy needs to learn a little gratitude, and he could fucking start at home.
See, I told you I was blurting again. Just putting it out there, and getting it off my chest, because it’s becoming toxic to me!!