never married, over forty, a little bitter

the blowout

The roomie is moving out soon, so I probably should have just sucked it up this month and done all the cleaning, but today I sent him an email asking him to clean the area he is responsible for since I did a bunch of cleaning today. He responded incredibly poorly and the big fight ensued with him screaming at the top of his lungs that I was a cunt and telling me to get out (of my condo).

I have held back conversationally with him since we moved in together because he’s had no restraint about telling me to “shut up” and “stop whining” (interestingly this is why I had begun to hem and haw about the prospect of us living together). Six years of knowing each other and I have never once told him to shut up even though many, many times I myself have been bored or irritated with conversation about his Grindr hook-ups and his job possibilities and his new condo and his boyfriend and his twenty-to-thirtysomething dramas. For the first time, I let him know that today.

I haven’t talked to him at all about dating since moving back here (I haven’t been doing any!) and considering I’m in the middle of a dispiriting job search and that is the main thing in my life, have kept most of it to myself (the bulk of it, in fact, is dumped here). This morning I told him that I’m considering this my year off and if I don’t find a job I’m not going to sweat it. Yet he went on and on about how “trying” I am with all my whining about dating and jobs and how he’s had to “put up with me” all these years. This is his broken record, even when the music has stopped.

His existence here– the city (which he knew about through me), the job (he now is in my old position), the condo (which he bought in my building), the upcoming lasik (to be performed through my eye doctor)– is due largely to me, and I told him he could act a bit more gracious, all things considered.

This whole thing is not good. Not good at all. Ugly.

Probably due to kundalini yoga, I can at least say I did not call him names in return. I did tell him, however, that I think he has an internet addiction, and his irritation at my conversation (and others) may have more to do with him being interrupted from his ten hour computer marathons than anything else.

tuning forks

When I first moved back here, I wrote a post on my discovery that many of my earlier instincts about people had turned out to be on the nose. When I was younger, I kept many of my impressions to myself. I often assumed that when interactions were “off” that I was the one in the wrong. Now that I have more confidence and am more willing to speak up about my impressions, I’m finding out that I’m far from alone.

My instincts have recently been confirmed again. A little more than ten years ago, when I was in my early thirties, I was involved in a scene here in which a fifty-year-old man was a prominent figure. The scene consisted of a large number of twentysomethings (and some even younger) and a smaller but not insignificant sliver of people in their thirties.

This particular figurehead never gave me the time of day. I never expected him to be romantically interested– I certainly wasn’t — or to single me out as someone who had talent (I didn’t, particularly). What I did expect was some recognition that I was closer in age (and thus maturity) to him than all the youngsters and some natural conversational pull due to being peers. Instead, I got the impression that these were actually negatives to him.

I recently found out that this person is in prison due to child pornography charges (young teen girls, apparently). He plead guilty. Since then it’s come to light that people had gossiped for years about his predilection for pursuing the youngest “girls” on the scene. I came across a comment by a woman on a message board in which she said she found him creepy because if you were female and over thirty you were “invisible” to him.

And there you are.