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Irrational Anger

September 17, 2009

Shoestring Boy and I are right now operating on one car. His car’s compressor is kaputted right now and so while he could drive himself to work, he usually looks like something the Texas heat dragged in by the time he gets there so I just drive him instead. In some ways, it’s nice, our times in the car (and enforced togetherness) when he is not glued to the TV and I am not running a million miles a minute in a million different directions is refreshing. We talk, fight over radio control, and generally just enjoy the ride.

The downside to it is we are operating on one car. So I get calls at midnight asking me to head on up. And like last night, when I am tired and (really just want to be home reading under the sheets) and roll up in a Jcrew shirt, baggy jeans, my glasses on and hair in a pony; he wants to go to Nana with his coworkers to have drinks. I am not dressed for Nana! After much cajoling I agree to go.

I don’t know. Maybe it is because I don’t drink. Maybe because he and his coworkers (mostly women) just talk shop which is so above my head. So as the night wears on, I get more and more irritated. I am nagging, poking, prodding, “let’s go”, “can we go now?” And he hedges “in a little while”, “after this last drink”. Finally, they close the bar down. He and a (girl) coworker are still sitting and joking around with drinks in hand. I come back from the bathroom and as I walked up, watching them together, something in me snaps and all of a sudden I find myself irrationally angry.

“All right, it’s time to go” I snap

“No, no, I still have my Shiner left to finish”

“Fine, give it here, I will finish it for you” I growl. I am sick of his excuses.

I chug the beer (did you remember me saying I don’t drink?) all the while he and his (girl!) coworker are egging me on. Shaking the bottle to make sure I finished it. Which does not do much for my anger. I spun on my heel and stalked to the elevators and rode it down myself. I did not want to embaress him (or me) by getting visibly upset and by this point I am not sure if I can hide it. We promptly get in an argument in the car and I find I cannot justify my anger. I don’t know if it is because the idea of him being close in any sort of way to another woman pisses me off or that he drinks in general or…

I have never been brought up in the kind of home where my father has had a long day so he pops open a beer when he gets home. The only time I really have seen my parents drinking is socially with friends and never enough to get drunk. So the idea of drinking to get drunk, I am not going to lie, appalls me sometimes. Not that I have never been so stressed I want something to take the edge off, I have just never thought of drinking as a way to do that (and now you are thinking, maybe you should, then you wouldn’t be such a pyscho).

The fact that Shoestring Boy works with all women normally doesn’t bother me. Sometimes though I do get irked by the fact that they get to see him more than I do and talk to him more than I do just by virtue of work. Now I know that my Boy will never cheat on me. I know that. Just like I know he loves me with everything that he is. When I see them talking though about work and I get left out I just get mad. Here is something some other girl(s) shares with him that I don’t.

Gah. A girl can drive herself crazy. By the end of the ride though, my temper had mellowed out and as we were sitting on the couch, I apologized and we worked it through as we always do. I cannot ever stay mad at him for long no matter how I try to hang on to my anger. I don’t know what the moral of this story is. I wish he did not work in a place with all women. I wish I could stop being so jealous because it is a fruitless emotion. I wish I was not that girl. But I am. And so I am just going to have to work through it and remember to trust him.

Le sigh.

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