Atrocities abound!

WHY do I do this to myself? Why do I see the Big U every time he calls me up? Why are his whims my nightmares?

This is why: I believe, not even so deep down, that I deserve all this.

That's another post for another, more enlightened JoBiv.

THIS post is about atrocities. And secrets. And how we keep secrets from each other until they become atrocities.

I don't mean to speak in code, I'm just very, very upset. I'll tell you the little things, because the bigs things are too big to be written of here.


Little Thing #1:

Leaving The Corpse Bride, Uly waxed poetic about how good it was. I was charmed, because he usually hates anything that could possible be likeable to any other person on the Earth. He chooses to dislike things because it's fun for him to test his wit in a continual game of devil's advocate. It's extremely annoying. So when he allows himself to like something, he's charming, boyish, vulnerable, and I sincerely like him. So, as he spoke of the artistry and quirkiness of the film, and I recalled his uncontrolled chuckles during the film, I started chuckling myself.

"What are you laughing at?"
"You, I guess." Might as well be honest. Ha.
"Why?"
"I dunno. I just like listening to you talk about something you like."
"Why is that funny?"
"It's not exactly funny..."
"Anyway, as I was saying... blah blah Tim Burton blah brilliant, but that last scene blah blah... You're laughing again."
"I'm sorry."
"Then stop laughing."
"Okay."

And I realized two things, suddenly: if I told him how much I liked the film, he would argue against every point I made, just to argue. Also, he hadn't asked me what I thought, very likely in fear of wanting to contradict me.

So, little thing #1 - a vicious conversational cycle.


Little Thing #2: (Which ignores entirely the atrocities delivered on the body and soul of one JoBiv of Brookline, MA spanning the time after the Little Thing #1 revelations until the moment our story picks up once more.)

This morning, I returned from my shower and thought to call Miss Norah and see if she was up to shopping or some other thing that would be reassuring and normal. Uly's phone rang at the same time I reached for mine. It was some friend of his, a girl, and he was attempting to make plans with her.

"Brunch?" Turned down. He has never said this word to me, so I was surprised to discover it in his vocabulary.

"Dinner?" Perish the thought! Spend money on a meal? Not with JoBiv.

"But you're going to this party with me, right? ...C'mon, it'll be great! It's my brother and his goofy friends... Aww... but you're supposed to go as a pair of something. Can be anything, something stupid. I was thinking just matching shirts... Aww man, who will I get to go with me?"

Not the girl who stands in your room, holding her cell phone in wait of the end of your call so that she won't cause any questions while you're on the phone.

I was so angry in that moment that I called Norah anyway. I left a message. I didn't shout, but I didn't whisper either. Long after my short message, Uly remained on the phone with his friend, still in bed, leaning into the wall as if to create a private space. Leaning, actually, into the space my body occupied the night before.

I guess that means Little Thing #2 comprises all of Uly's efforts to limit my existence in his world.

Yes, I know. Those aren't little things. God, do I know.