More messages. He calls me baby and I shake my head. He doesn’t know what the problem is. I say there isn’t one.
Things had tided over, sort of. I was trying not to think about it and move on, cuz it’s dumb really. I have a life I need to figure out. I don’t want to spend my time arguing over word choice that wasn’t bad or intentionally hurtful. I have mood swings. We both know this. No need to blow shit up.
“Sounds like you don’t want me to call you that.”
“Whatever you want. I’m window shopping cuz I have some time. I’m hungry though, but there isn’t anything I want to eat [the sad face emoji with the eyes squeezed shut]. ”
“Fine. So you actually have a problem with me and keep saying everything is OK?”
I don’t understand this association. I suppose it makes some sense, but that’s not what I meant.
“There’s no need for the ‘with me’. I just don’t like being called baby most of the time. The problem isn’t ‘with you’ it’s with what you said.”
He says he doesn’t get it.
More misunderstandings. More messages. I don’t get to tell him that going to grad school for sociology instead of social work is weighing on my mind. I’d prefer to talk about that instead.
According to him, he doesn’t mean anything to me and things are always fine until he opens up.
We misunderstand each other a few more times. I’ve grown used to this. I don’t get annoyed much anymore when he says something I can’t comprehend. I still get annoyed however, when he doesn’t understand me. Most times I just can’t be bothered. I can’t be bothered with a lot of things.
He says for this relationship to work he should lie to me, because that’s when I’m happy. I say “well that’s sad.”