Angry Blogging

I am sure that this isn't a good idea; that there are some internet rules about this. I am sure that it is the kind of thing that I will only regret later.

That's right. I am going to write an angry rant about my wife. Here. For public consumption. And you know what? The only person who is going to read it is Mike White. So this is kind of like calling him and bitching to him, which would be something a normal friend would do. Anyway, back to the matter at hand.

My wife is pissing me off. Here's why:

She tries to get peace and quiet by being rude to me. At least, that is what it feels like. But seriously, let me ask you something: If the person who you care for the most is being short, bitchy, physically guarded, and generally unpleasant, what is your stock response?

For some, it might be to give that person space, room to breath. Maybe it would be compassion; some kind of open-ness, some kind of sympathy.

For me, I become a prick. I start by asking her what's wrong, over and over and over again, not accepting any short, bitchy, or generally unpleasant answers. Then, I tell her, "fine," and I pretend to leave for about forty five seconds or so, before I come back in the room, ready to pop off. Generally, I am full angry at this point, and I tell her all kinds of things about herself, most of it fairly unconstructive.

She responds with more general unpleasantness, the worst of all being eye-rolling, which pisses me off to absolutely no end. Anyone who thinks that rolling their eyes is a good way to get someone to leave them alone and stop pressing their point is sorely mistaken. In fact, the second I see those pupils disappear, I am officially going to continue arguing, if only to piss her off just a little more.

I think I should digress here: Andrea doesn't like to talk about stuff, I do. In general. That's not entirely true, of course. In an odd, slightly cruel gender reversal, all Andrea ever really wants to discuss at great lengths is pragmatics: we'll be here until then, when we will do this, at this time, and then this will happen, and then we will do that. I, on the other hand, am a wishy washy talk it out kind of a guy, and I always want to talk about my feelings. So sometimes this doesn't compute, obviously. In any case, our most deleterious pattern in our relationship is that I get pissed and talk talk talk, and she just sits there rolling her eyes at me.

But I don't understand why all you moody people out there don't get this: If you really want to be left alone, then DON'T ACT LIKE YOU WANT ATTENTION. People who really want to be left alone go off and are alone. They don't sit there making faces and generally acting like a two year old with a thunder cloud over their heads. Being rude is a good way to pick a fight, but it is an awful way to get space for yourself. Or, here's a thought: How's about you grow the fuck up? The world is a shitty, imperfect place, and maybe there isn't a whole lot of room for your bad mood; maybe you need to learn to suck it up, be an optimist. Maybe when shit turns really bad, that's the only choice you have: Suck it up, or don't. And if you choose "don't" then you start drinking, or you go on anti-depressants.

But whatever, I just can't let stuff go because I feel like my mom's body crapped out before I had a chance to resolve stuff with her. And, I have a broken relationship with the archetypal feminine because she was sick. Beyond that, my creative and growing identity was stifled by my stepmother's controlling tendancies, which caused me to rebel in a passive aggressive form of procrastination towards all things that I don't want to do.

My Dad is cool, though.

God, I miss drinking.

Seacrest, out.