The Joke

(or, The Unbearable Heaviness of D)


********** BEGIN TRANSMISSION **********

Once again, this is set to my preferred list... as part of the book and extremely personal saga... one that has given me much trouble trying to express the humor that I do see in the pain. My previous two entries have been tame. This one will not be so. That's because this is the end of the story, given long before the other details and chapters got posted... which will be a bit troubling when trying to understand some of the references made, as you'll soon see. And still, sad as it is, it's too unbelievable to not be laughable.

It happened last Thursday, as you all already know. I awoke that morning, checked email, and found a shock waiting for me... a double whammy... I was fired and dumped by my boss/boyfriend of the last 6.5 months. The boss part was just a loose, temporary, part-time thing anyway, so it's less of a worry to me anyhow. But the part that was shocking is that he did it all by email... and that he broke his promise to train me to do motion graphics and show me how to build dazzling elements for my demo reel. I will still go back and write the other months to share for laughs as a later time, but for now, here is verbatim what I received and how I responded:


Subject: Dont know how else to do this

ok

Here is the situation...I've been thinking on this the entire week...actually this has been on my mind for months now. I don't know how to be polite about what is going on so I'm gonna just bullet point what needs to happen in my life regarding us...both working and relationship.

1. I can no longer pay you regularly...I was wrong in thinking that I could afford an assistant at this point in the Anvels life cycle. I would like to contract you from time to time but it would be infrequent until I get to where I need to be financially. I'm aiming for $10, 000.00 in the Anvel before taking on an assistant again. I also am not ready mentally for an assistant...I need to have my stuff together before I have someone work with me. The assistants pay will also be much lower than what I was paying you. It will be somewhere between $10.00 and $15.00 per hour. I will be coming up with a list of duties that an assistant would do.

2. I can no longer train you regularly...I need to start billing out for any time I train...I can't afford to do free training anymore. This does not mean you can't come to me with questions...it just means that there will be no "formal" training given from me until I feel the Anvel is where it needs to be. For future reference personal training will range from $25.00 - $100.00 per hr. I will also do training in trade of services...ex stuffing envelopes...etc

3. Now the Hardest part
I can no longer be in a relationship with you...I am starting to view our relationship as a distraction and a hindrance to the things I need to do in my career. You are right I am motivated differently than you...relationships are not important at this point in my life. This does not mean I do not value you...I think you are the most important person that has come into my life in a long time. That is also why this needs to end...I respect and care about you too much to waste your time. You need someone who is more stable than me. I want our friendship to continue...I hope you do as well...Also I have learned that I can never date the person I train or work with...I am incapable of seperating the two.

4. I do think in the future that you and I will work creatively with each other...I don't think it will be on a romantic level...but as far as work goes I think we would be able to complement each other.

5. Please take this as a friend...I need to correct my problems...ex. Debt, Divorce, Work, My Son...all of these are more important than anything else.
Please figure out what you need to do to correct yours...I know you are not motivated by money...but you do have responsibilities that you need to deal with...don't think that finding a Mr Right will fix these...you need to rethink your motivations...if only to make your life easier.

6. Lastly I will be returning your keys and boxing up your shelves...I'll return them this weekend.
Please return my keys...you can hold onto my laptop if you want to finish CD9...but I will be need those back by May 1st

7. I will also be paying you one last time of $250.00 to finish CD9 by May 1st...but that's up to you.

8. I've been trying to find a way to verbalise this to you but I didn't want you to spin the whole thing around and nullify what I want.
This letter is not a discussion I want to have in depth. These are my needs and I'm not going to change them.

D

Please give me your views thru email...then we can talk about it...if you want.


Does anyone recall the blog entry from January titled Sunshine and Lollipops, where I describe the stress hives D gave me, the resulting conversation, then him having me bullet point the whole thing for him? Well, back then, he told me that in the future, he'd prefer if I always came to him with brief, bullet-pointed issues, so he could address them easily and move on. I told him that would never work with me or any other woman, because it's cold and impersonal and the quickest route to an argument. I even said to him, "If a woman sees bullet points like this, her first reaction would be, 'Oh, it is ON now!'." I then emphasized to him that he should NEVER, EVER do something of that kind with me. Not only did he do it, but he EMAILED it to me.

I was in total shock after that. Yeah, my friends who know the stories that I've told about D's odd behavior and his anger over me asking the simplest questions about his choices are all scratching their heads over why I'd be shocked by this... but I guess I always wanted to believe he was a decent guy, who actually cared about me. Boy, was I ever wrong. The only one D cares about is D, unfortunately. I've known this for a while... like how he left his son in California and hadn't seen him for 15 months, simply because his ex chose a different guy over him. I've always felt sorry for his son... now I have a lot more sympathy for his ex-wife (well, technically they're still not divorced, because Dean doesn't want to deal with that... but that's a whole other blog).

It took me 3 whole days to respond, I was just so angry. When I finally did sit down to write my thoughts, my whole body shook like I was suffering from hypothermia... or going through detox, which is probably more apropos. Although I didn't want to be ugly or come off as the typical woman scorned, I had some points that I needed to clarify for him, so that he'd drop all of his ill-conceived assumptions and judgments about me. I'd held my tongue about oh-so much... it was my time to let it all go. I've decided to post my response here too, so that the balance can be shown... even at the risk of me sounding cruel. (Again, future entries about the past months will shed light on why I held in so much.)

For your reading amusement, my preferred friends, I give you a scorned response that may become a classic, if I don't say so myself...


Thanks for the email, it really made my week. The way you inquired about my knee injury and wished me good luck on my final edit session with T, knowing it was later that very same night, was so touching and inspiring. As a matter of fact, I had to cancel the session with her and take three days to respond, because I was so moved by your sweet, generosity of spirit. I'm thinking of having it framed or possibly getting it in needlepoint on a pillow!

Now that I've gotten the sarcasm out of the way, let me bullet point some facts for you:

1. I can no longer be friends with you. You've proven by your lack of decency here that you do not value me in the slightest. Why on earth would I invite more of that into my life? If I should happen to see you around somewhere, I will be civil, but most likely highly distant (at best). I don't care about losing your assistant position, because the complete lack of respect and utter disregard that you've shown me is incomprehensible... but, hey, thanks for the book fodder!

2. Why would I ever want to pay you to train me, when you couldn't manage to train me in 6 months thus far under much better circumstances? "Gee, maybe when he gets some cash in his hand for it, he'll be motivated to be a better teacher? Or if I'm lucky, he'll just berate me MORE! I can't wait for that!" Yeah, that makes total sense.

And just so you know for your own future reference, therapy ranges between $140.00 - $200.00 per hour. So the next time you start feeling like you'd paid me too much for too long, take a moment to consider that rate and then weigh all the assistance I gave you in helping to tame your emotional demons and to keep you from further fucking up your life... not that that's all fixed now, by any means. I'm not even sure that's possible.

3. Breaking up was the hardest part for you? Really? So hard, in fact, that you not only gave me a layoff via email, but decided to add the salt of a breakup letter to the wound? Unbelievable. Did you think I'd not take that personally? Of course, what more could I expect from someone who runs away from his problems? I might have been able to have a friendship with you, if you had handled any of this better than you have here. I don't even consider our relationship to be a real adult relationship, because it was always your way or the highway. You were so self-absorbed that you never seemed to consider that there was another person with feelings and desires next to you. And you respect and care about me too much to waste my time? But apparently not enough to actually talk to me in person, huh. Again, thanks for the material.

4. I always thought that our creative ideas and styles could compliment each other and that I could fill in holes that you had in your creativity (can your ego take that?) and vice versa... I looked forward to the day that we'd get to finally work together on something... anything... not just motion graphics stuff. Now, however, I don't see that ever happening. You know how you feel about Kyle because of that whole CBS deal? Multiply that times 100, and that's pretty much how I feel towards you after your email. Sure, you're talented, but it takes more than that to succeed in the game of life... again, you never really cared to make room for what I brought to the table.

Also, I held my tongue about your bad behavior when I was dating you for the sake of our relationship (unlike many of the cruel and hurtful things you casually slung at me on a regular basis); but now that things have ended like this, and that you've chosen these terms, I can guarantee that my B.S. tolerance would be next to nil. Since everything has to be your way with a constant need for praise and worship of your work, my biting wit and honest critiques would neither be curtailed nor go over well with you.

5. You have no right to assume that I was trying to find a "Mr. Right" with you to fix my problems. NEED I REMIND YOU THAT YOU ARE THE ONE WHO BEGGED ME FOR A RELATIONSHIP WHEN WE MET? I had sworn off dating and you had to convince me by saying that you couldn't wait. How easily you forget. I also told you at that time that I absolutely do not date men who are still married... did you forget that as well? And lo and behold, what did you finally admit 2 months later? At that point, I could have just walked away, if I hadn't believed you were going to actually start training me soon.

I've known for a long time now that I would have broken up with you if it hadn't been for the work. I simply continued to date you to keep things smooth sailing for the coming training sessions... or so I thought it would go. Part of me hoped that you'd be a different person once the training was done and the divorce was final, but as the months wore on, I realized that this is just who you are... you even admitted that others pointed these bad behaviors, man periods, and issues out to you decades earlier, and that was really what made me lose hope that you'd be different.

Yes, it's true that I have been working overtime to maintain a semblance of a relationship with you, especially since December, simply for the benefit of your small business to get off the ground and for my career to take flight. You, with your huge ego, thought that I wanted to marry you, but all I wanted was the training you promised and the demo reel. So you see, I have other motivations than "finding a Mr. Right"... I was putting my career first, and brother, that takes some major commitment to stick through your tantrums and drama. My mindset wasn't always that way, no... before we went to Florida in December, I thought you actually wanted a real relationship and that you were just going through a rough patch... but that image of you has been shattered by repeat offenses, bad behavior, and downright meanness. And through it all, I held my tongue about the things that REALLY bothered me.

What bothered me? So many things, but the most glaring was that you couldn't respect me, simply because I didn't want to be a clone of you. You emphasized that over and over, adding that you only respect people who are creative and driven. Pardon me for not having an Emmy or two under my belt. Do you know what it takes to finish a Masters Degree at the head of your class and with a prestigious fellowship as a single parent of three? No? I thought not.

You never asked, but would you like to know who I respect? Men who don't abandon their children. Every time you whined or snipped about "I haven't seen my son and it's so unfair," I wanted to smack you in the head and say, "Don't talk to me about fair! You're the jerk who left him across the country to put your own needs first!" I never had designs on you for a "future together" because of that. I knew that if you ran from your problems in California, then you'd do it to me sometime down the road the moment life got tough. It is a sad story, yes, but I only feel sad for your son, not for you. Try not blaming everyone else for your problems for once and just dealing with them head on... you might actually learn something and hurt fewer people in the process.

6. I will be leaving your computer, books, and keys (inside the inner mouse-pocket of the computer bag) locked in the trunk of my van this evening. I will not be here, as I have tickets to the animation thing this evening, if you recall. I suggest you make the effort to drive over sometime between 4pm and 9pm to remove your things and place my stuff in the trunk. I don't wish to see you and have some cold property exchange... it's not worth my time or energy, so this will be the only time for you to gather your belongings.

7. As for your offer about CD 9... no thank you. It was never about the money anyhow, but you will never understand that.

8. And finally, let me get this straight... an email was the best way that you came up with? Wow. Don't let anyone tell you that you're not a "people person." Remember on New Years when you asked, "We'll always be friends, right?" And my answer was, "Unless you hurt me." Congratulations on coming up with a new all-time low for handling a breakup. Now me, I'm not one for violence... but you do realize that if I had been one of your typical psychotic exes, ending things like this, with a laptop and keys to your car and apartment in my possession, I could have really fucked up your life in many ways. In that hindsight, don't you think you could have tried just a tad harder to find a better, more polite way to end things? That was rhetorical... no need to bother coming up with an answer.

As you ended your email, I will concur. There is no need for a protracted discussion. Also, please do not include me in your memories of "all of your girlfriends" who tell you that they'd still sleep with you, as I do not share the sentiment. Although I was the one who always asked for more intimacy, if you noticed I didn't physically try to initiate... that's mostly because I tend to be into more creative partners and I always felt stifled by your fear of my sexuality... or maybe it was a fear of my creativity in that realm dominating yours? Who cares. I merely offered regularly to take the edge off of dealing with you... it relaxed me, and it also caused your particular brand of crazy to be less intense, making you actually enjoyable to be around. Although the sex was at times good enough to make a week go better with you, it was never frequent enough nor mind blowing enough to make up for all of the added stress and hives and weight gain and tears that have occurred since I've met you. You've even driven me to start smoking again. Unbeknownst to you, that started 3 weeks ago, immediately after your last "this isn't working" freak out. After 8 months of managing to go cold turkey, lighting up was the only way I could keep from breaking out in hives again.

Despite all of my hurt feelings and stress, I do not wish any ill will upon you. In many ways, I feel sorry for you that you continue to make your life so hard, when you have so many things going for you. I hope at some point you'll be able to see that, but I'm not going to concern myself any longer with your issues.

Be glad that I took my time to respond. This is the "nice" email... I answered you a hundred times in angrier and/or sadder versions in my head, but this one summed things up just right. A little scathing (and rightfully so), but honest. I would, however, like to request one thing from you... it's actually more of a demand, in exchange for all that I put up with and for this truly crappy ending you've given:

9. In the future, when you should be called upon for a reference about me, offer a glowingly good one. I have done nothing to ever hurt you or injure you in any way (except for maybe the ego bruising I just vented above) and have only wished to help you succeed and get ahead, yet you broke your promises, changed your plans every time the wind blew, then left me hanging out to dry... allowing me to accomplish nothing in 6.5 months... the very least you can do is be a good reference. I think that I have earned it.

--Sherri



There you have it, folks. The She-Creature has fangs.

He responded only one more time... brief and to the point:



Hey,

I'll pick up my things and leave your things tonight.
Don't worry about a crappy reference from me...there are no bad words that will ever be expressed towards you.

Sorry to drag you into my delirium.

D



That night, I returned home to find my stuff returned in a box in my trunk. Tonight I decided that wasn't enough closure and I needed one more purge for my system, so I burned the only physical photograph (as opposed to the many digital ones) that I have in my possession... the one taken of us in "happier times" at MGM Studios.





Is that another symbolic moment? Me laughing my ass off, him screaming in fear like a little girl and squeezing my hand for security... happy together (sort of) in the Tower of Terror. I say "sort of" because that picture was taken just a few hours after the first of many big fights where Dean dropped the "this isn't working for me" bomb and said he wanted to break up... hence the full-body hives that followed a few days later... again, that's a blog for another time. It is rather prophetic that I had to drag him onto the ride and that he tried to dash away... twice... and leave me on it alone before they closed the doors.

But here's how the picture looked tonight in its ritual burning:







Ashes to ashes.


********** END TRANSMISSION **********

Beat That!

I just got dumped AND laid off all at the same time. The best part? He did it all by sending just one bullet-pointed email. Impersonal AND efficient. Awesome!

On the bright side, I'll have a lot of free time now.

Oh, and I have 2 tickets to see the Atlanta Film Festivals' Animation Extravaganzas for this Sunday evening at the Midtown Art Cinema (5-9pm). If anyone would like to go with me, let me know.

Grace is not my middle name

As I rushed around this morning, groggily trying to locate my glasses and my cell phone so that I could drive my oldest to his before-school Percussion Ensemble practice and imagining the extra large coffee that I wanted to procure in order to continue to function, my day came to a crashing hault. Literally.

It seems that one of the hurdles in my home's dog-proofing obstacle course -- a heavy, wooden board that spans my bedroom doorway -- conspired with my new Crocs sandles TO KILL ME!





Think I'm exaggerating? Really? Well, as I stepped over the barricade, the extra-wide lip of my right extra-comfy shoe grabbed onto the upper lip of the board, where it held fast as my as my left leg attempted to follow suit.

In what seemed like an eternity, and I swear that everything was moving in slow motion, I realized that I was sailing into the narrow hallway, head-first for the door frame across from me. As I hit the frame and watched my glasses fly off my face, I thought that pain was bad enough... until I realized that I was still in mid-air and my trajectory had changed to falling straight down onto my right kneecap... full force.

That's when slow-mo sped into fast-fwd and I hit the floor with such an impact, my son thought a tree had fallen on the house. He rushed up to see what happened, finding me crumpled on the floor in agony... glasses 5 feet away, cell phone 10 feet away, me in a fetal position and screaming.

His first question was, "What do you want me to do? Call 911?" I told him not to do that, just get me an ice pack. His next question was, "Will you be able to drive me to practice?" Sure, just put a stick between my teeth to clamp down on and drag me to the car. For the next 15 minutes that he had to sit and wait for the bus, he sulked. Nice.

I called my mother, the nurse, and told her what the whole tale I just recounted to you. She rushed out and bought me a knee stabilizing brace. (And an extra large coffee.) I located an old cane made out of a tree branch that I'd had propped in a corner for years (always wondered when I'd need it), took a couple of Advil, then attempted to get my day started... albeit a few hours later than I'd thought.





The first to return home from school were my younger two, who were gone by the time this had happened. Surprised by me answering the door in a knee brace and a cane, they asked, "What happened to you?"

I always like to impart some wisdom that they can share with their peers later. "Crocs are dangerous. Mine tried to kill me," I told them. Once they understood that, there was a pause before the next question... "Does this mean we don't have to go to Tae Kwon Do today?!" Nice.

A half-hour later, my eldest returned home and ran to where I was to see if I was feeling any better. Okay, that's only partly true. He returned home and ran upstairs to play videogames with his brother. He's been home for 3 hours now and hasn't inquired about my knee. Nice.

I'd like to report that I'm okay, but I really can't tell. It's only been 11 hours since the accident and I'm feeling more and more like I've been hit by a truck. First I only noticed my knee, which feels like someone's trying to pry the cap off with a hot poker. A few hours later, my neck and shoulder started to twinge with pain. Now it feels like my whole spine has been shifted this-way and that-way and every joint in my body sounds like a bowl of Rice Krispies. "Snap, crackle, pop!" Nice.

My mother's only words of encouragement when she left here went something like this: "You think you're hurting now? Just wait 'til tomorrow!"

Niiiiiiice.

It's not the quantity that matters

Last week I got a message in my mailbox from my town's police department stating that this week it will be sending a special task force into my neighborhood to write citations for living standards: too many people in one house, RVs parked on lawns, fences in disrepair, weeds, dangerous trees, etc. It's a new branch of the police called "The Quality of Life Task Force" and it's their mission to come around and inspect every home in the area and write up violation warnings, give the residents 3 days to fix said violations, then come back and give citations to those who haven't fixed anything.

(Author's note: Sounds to me like a veiled attempt at looking for Mexican families who sometimes live 3 or 4 families to a house... but they couldn't call it "The Racial Profiling Task Force" and get away with it, so they write up a few white residents along the way to make things look on the up and up. I really figured with my usual luck that I'd be one of dummies to get swept up in this scheme.)

Anyway... Monday as I was reviewing footage, I realized that I was constantly hearing what sounded like thunder booms outside, despite there not being any storm clouds. Then I heard my dog barking furiously at the fence, so I went outside to call her back in... that's when I spotted the squad car across the street and the police officer actually pointing at some weeds and commanding the resident of the house to get the mower. It was a weird moment, until I remembered about "THE QUALITY OF LIFE TASK FORCE!"

I ran to look out my front window and lo and behold, there's a giant dumpster right in front of my house and every person in the neighborhood has already come by and filled it to the gills. I opened my door to get a closer look and that's when a yellow carbon copy sheet of paper that had been jammed in my door frame fell at my feet. I picked it up, dreading what violations were going to be cited (imaging having to get trees cut down in 3 days time, for instance). It was from "The Quality of Life" pigs, alright; but none of the boxes were checked. Instead, scrawled at the bottom it reads: "You're good to go! Thanks!"

Wow. You mean for once in my life someone has cut me a break? Meanwhile, I'm noticing that half of my neighbors have come home from work early and called in reinforcements to scramble and clean up their yards. How I passed, I have no clue.

What I do know is that I now have a giant dumpster outside my house that keeps getting emptied twice a day and is just as quickly refilled by a long parade of pickup trucks, wheelbarrows, and foot traffic. You'd think that a pyramid or the Taj Mahal were being built around here (albeit, a very crappy one). And on the side of that dumpster is the sign that makes this whole thing so amusing...





See it? Look closer...





Apologies for blurriness. It's a challenge to hold a camera still while laughing, but do you see it now? It's the "QUALITY OF LIFE" dumpster. Yes, indeedy. Just knowing that it's a QUALITY dumpster is making my life better every time i open my front door. Once again, unintentional irony never fails to give me the giggles.

Update: How about a night shot of the quality dumpster, taken around 2am last night, when no one would see me and I was too tired to giggle.

April Fool

Girlfriend's log:: Star Date 7-01042007

I've entered into what is becoming familiar territory, after 6 long months piloting this (relation)ship. It's the dreaded MAN PERIOD again... otherwise known as "Negative Nelly has come for a visit." It's not quite set to the lunar cycle, but it's close... by my calculations, it seems to occur every 4-5 weeks and lasts for 5-7 days.

I've been trying to survive for the past several days by laying low, being positive whenever possible (which is difficult, since Aunt Flow was visiting here, too) and only cursing him in private or behind his back. I find the one curse that works best for me is the one that involves me sobbing angrily and saying, "Why am I still dating this guy? There better be mind-blowing sex for me to continue putting up with this kind of cruel shit... I'm talking the mess you up in the head variety of sex, not this 'maybe once in a blue moon' shit that has been going on lately. Oh yeah, there's gonna be changes if I'm gonna stick with this a**."

Where was I? Ah, yes... the blue menace.

This time I almost predicted the events that would happen, yet because I've seen that damned video of The Secret I now have to think, "Stop that or you'll Secret that into your life!" It becomes that snake eating it's tail.

The week started badly from the previous weekend, in which he was too busy doing stuff he'd put off for work to spend any quality time hanging out... a procrastination thing that he pulls slightly more regularly than the man period, so it can't be blamed on the time of the month.

This brought on a conversation that I initiated in which I told him that we needed to make more of an effort to be intimate or we'll both become too complacent to bother with it anymore at all... followed by his admission that he would be totally okay with that, because he never thinks about sex.

Yes, I glanced at his gonadal region. They're still there. I'm just as confused as you are, trust me.

Then somehow the conversation turned to him getting a rabbit. I'm not sure who started that one, but he was full-on enthusiastic about bringing a bunny into his house for about 2 solid days, until he talked to his brother.

His older brother has a knack for fucking a lot of things up just by saying something off the cuff. He apparently precipitated D's cheating on and thus ending a relationship with a girl he loved back in his younger days just by asking him why he was wasting his artistic talents by working at a library instead of staying in art school. Suddenly, D was sleeping with some other chick, telling the girl he loved about it, and she, of course, had to end it. Next thing you know, D's back in art school, which ultimately lead him to impregnating and marrying a highly unstable S&M stripper chick, whom he's still trying to get out from under 13 years later.

This time, his brother was going on and on about how he's going to devote all of his time to his business, so that he can be successful and retire soon, and that he's going to forget about wasting his time dating. (This comes on the heels of his brother dating a woman for the first time in years and finally getting to have sex in eons, and her breaking up with him immediately after that... sounds like over-compensating to me. Time to buy a Corvette, maybe.) Then D said something about all he wanted to do at the end of the day was watch tv on his "42-inches of love," as he calls it. His brother acted all shocked by his recovered workaholic brother's response, the spent the next hour spewing stuff he'd read in "how to be successful" books.

The next day, Dean calls me to tell me that he's not getting the bunny (which was fine, albeit a confusing shift in tone) because it was just another distraction in a long line of distractions (implicating me in that list of "distractions"), when he should be concentrating all of his extra time into his career. In that same day, he'd received a box from his mother of all of his awards and bon mots from his dozen years in his chosen career, which apparently depressed him even more, because he'd been doing nothing towards getting more accolades since his marriage blew up.

D's been extra angry at his estranged wife, because not only did she cheat on him with another guy, but she apparently ruined his "plan" for early retirement... he thought he'd accumulate more awards and fame and be retired by 40. Instead, when the man period hits, all he whines on about is "I never expected to be 37 and having to start over," as if he is the first person to ever have to do such a thing.

I summoned all the powers of positivity that I could muster and said, "Wait, you're talking about Emmy's and awards and all this great stuff... and tons of people already know your name... sounds to me like you've reached your successful status earlier than 40. Maybe the breakup was just an earlier early retirement, making way for your second-life career shift." I even pulled the whole, "There's more than one measure of success, you know. And I don't care if your brother makes an assload of money before he's 50... if he had to do it by living in your parents' house and sacrificing any romantic life whatsoever, then he's a failure. I'm sorry, but it's the truth."

His tone changed a little, but he still was upset that he wasn't scoring more Emmy's... that he only had 2 (and 7 nominations), but of course his mom didn't send him the one Emmy statue that he has left. That's when I saw a pivotal life-lesson moment, and I asked him to tell me the details of what happened to the second Emmy statue. "Did it get smashed at the end?" (Then I told him that I'd forgotten the tale, but I hadn't.)

He proceeded to tell me that his wife had yelled at him "YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT YOUR WORK!" and to prove to her that his work didn't matter, he took one of his Emmys and smashed it. I think I asked if it helped him win the argument or prove anything, which he admitted it didn't. Later, in recapping that conversation, I tried to tell him that he was trying to make a case for how he had to be MORE successful in his work and to devote MORE time to it, yet it had obviously caused his personal life some serious harm... not that I was laying blame on him for the end, just that it was obviously a point of contention between them. He agreed entirely.

I then took the one day a week that he sets aside to train me and I told him, "I want you to use that whole day to work on your business stuff. If you devote one whole day a week, instead of piece-mealing hours here and there, I'm sure you'll see a big difference. We can do my training during 'girlfriend time,' I don't care." ("Girlfriend time" is anything off-the-clock, like the weekend, as opposed to "employee time" or "trainee time." He needs labels and I think he's going to start making me wear a hat and a name tag.)

Guess what happened? It went great, naturally. He was so caught up in his work, he finished everything he'd been putting off for the last year. I came over the next day and he was in such a refreshed mood that he had changed his mind again about getting a rabbit... then we spent the rest of the day picking out bunnies and getting supplies and playing with the furry things (he got 2, but had to return one the next day, because they were fighting).

Today, however, it all went sour when the bunny exchange went down. After the long drive back to the store, we walk in and tell them about the fighting and want to exchange this one for the calmer bunny that shared the cage with the other bunny he's keeping. Suddenly there's all this covert sideways glancing going on between the staff and we hear, "Uh, we don't have any rabbits in the store right now. They're on hold until after Easter, to prevent Easter buying."

"But we were just in here yesterday afternoon and we're not buying, we're exchanging. Can you see if he's in the back somewhere?"

The staff scatter for a moment and one finally comes back, shifting his weight back and forth and scratching his neck awkwardly, saying, "Nope, they've been shipped back to a central location. Store policy." It was all very alien-abduction like. The kid kept trying to make small talk and avoid eye contact, and I could tell he was lying... like they had the bunny in a crate in the back, like it was the Ark in Raiders.

D's positive buoyancy instantly deflated. He returned the troublesome bunny, and left the store empty-handed. I tried to pick him up with talk of going to other places to find another bunny. We drove for a couple of hours in dreary afternoon weather without any luck... 2 bunnies here, but they're already bonded... no bunnies there... a bunch of bunnies over there, but none are neutered and it seemed too shady. Dean grew more and more silent with each passing minute, as if I'd created the bunny troubles, or something.

At the last store, he finally stated, "That's it. I'm done with the rabbit stuff and returning the other one, too. I never wanted a rabbit in the first place. This is stupid."

It was easy for me to see that Dean doesn't handle delayed gratification or changes in plans well at all, and he over-reacts to think that everything is ruined or a bad idea. It's the same thing that my kids do... give up completely if something doesn't go how they imagined it would.

He spent the rest of the day completely silent towards me or just completely asleep, and by the time he woke up, the silent treatment was even worse... which seemed impossible, but there it was.

I finally asked if we could do our training time, and he acted like it was not at all what he wanted, but he did... only to then tell me that he couldn't train me on anything I showed him, because it was all garbage. It was about 20 minutes of that, then he walked away and started putting on things in the bathrooms.

I tried to see what I could do to fix things, but there wasn't anything I knew to do. I went to where he was watching television and finally asked him if he was okay. I'd been hoping all day that the mood would pass after food, or after a nap, or something... but it had only got worse. That's when he pulled the whole, "This isn't working for me," thing.

The "this isn't working" line started back in December, during our second trip to Florida. We'd gotten into a bit of a spat, then he went silent, and when I tried to get him to talk, he pulled the "this isn't working" thing... and about how he's not ready to be in a relationship. Mind you, he practically begged me to be in this relationship with him... and when he isn't having his man period, he talks about how I've helped him to get over his failed marriage and to grow in so many ways. But when it's raggy D, it's like Dr. Jekyll drank the potion... or when Bruce Banner says "you wouldn't like me when I'm angry," and then next thing he knows he's waking up in an alley and his clothes are all shredded.

I had to listen to him tell me how he can't train me, because he can't talk to me like he would talk to other people he'd train because of our dating... and that he can't date me, because he can't talk to me like someone he'd just date... and that he got the bunny to appease me somehow (which I was confused by, yet again)... and about how he has no interest in sex, etc.

Mind you, it's been over 2 weeks since... you know.

I then began my questions, trying to understand the deal... what caused this round of "this isn't working" when for weeks it seemed fine, much like the previous time, and the time before that. This is the first time I labeled it a "man period" and that's when he says that an old roommate of his used to called it exactly that, and how an old ex-girlfriend labeled him as manic depressive, because of this mood shift of his.

So I said to him, "If this has been you for basically your whole adult life, as you seem to be saying now, why are you labeling this moment with me as you not being ready for a relationship? Sounds like you're never ready for one, yet you keep getting into them. And I doubt you'll stop after you're done with me." He agreed, there was some slight lift in the mood at this point. Then I told him that I thought this was also coming on because he's scared about introducing his son to me next week, which will be the first time he's been allowed to see his son in 15 months. He agreed to that idea, as well.

Finally I asked, "So are you just throwing the baby out with the bath water?" To which he said, "Yes, I do tend to cut off my nose to spite my own face on a regular basis." Is this a good sign when you start communicating in metaphors alone? I'm not sure. Hell, I'm not even sure we were using the correct ones. He did seem to calm down quite a bit though, enough to finally come sit beside me at last.

I'm not sure if we're out of the woods yet. We probably won't be until he finally comes around and ...uh... comes around. Meanwhile, I'll just keep walking on these here egg shells.