Y'see, I mentioned before how I'd driven up to one of the Great Lakes the middle of last week. That's not just 2 1/2 hrs drive each way, that's ultimately two days out of my schedule where pretty much I can do fuck-all with my times besides be there for her. And allow me to be candid here, I could really give a fuck about sight-seeing. Christ, it's fucking February anyway. Nope, I went up because she wanted me to, and I did think it would be nice to get to spend some time alone with her.

Well, long story short, we got into a big hairy fight as we were going to bed the first night. Being as I'd gone so far out of my way for this little romantic get-together, I strove to let it go for the rest of the time I was there. My mistake, apparently. Because I did write her an email when I got back, pointing out the stuff that (in a nutshell) just seemed insane, mean-spirited, and accusatory to me about the fight we'd had. Um. So, right, I was being both deceptive and noncommunicative (or at least dysfunctionally communicative) there.

Okay. Hey, I'm a pretty fucking flexible guy, I like to think. We spend Friday night together watching this chick flick made in the 1960s her mom gave her. Fine, the movie was interesting enough and I certainly enjoy just laying around cuddling up with her, whatever is on the screen. Retiring to bed, we have part 2 of some pretty hot sex we'd started on when I'd first arrived earlier in the night. Ten minutes after, at 3 a.m. in the morning no less, she gets angry and kicks me out of her bed and her apartment. Which, twisted as I consider this, I was actually rather thankful for, because it showed that she'd paid attention to my dysfunctional email from the day before, where I'd said I don't intend to just play emotional punching bag every time she finds herself consumed with anger for whatever reason.

Still, while all I wanted to do was sleep after a nice calm night together, she kicked me out in the middle of the night. When we finally spoke again last night? Well, of course the kicking-out had been my fault, because I'd just started pushing her buttons, and she just refused to be the one to blame for having gotten upset. And, "our relationship is in very rocky territory". And, essentially, yadda yadda yadda about what a bad boyfriend I am.

She feels like I'm "making her the bad guy" when I say I have things to do -- like, why can't I get stuff done when she's around.

I dunno -- because when you're around it's really just a matter of time before I get to start hearing what a fuckhead I am? Especially if I'm not devoting absolutely all my attention directly at her.

So tomorrow if Valentine's Day, and as opposed to feeling romantic about it I feel like we need to talk about backing the fuck off one another, and finding some kind of space where the time we spend together is something that makes us both happy as opposed to making us both pissed off.

So while some of us can joke about what a shitty signficant other would break up with someone on what's supposed to be the most romantic day of the year, some variation of that seems kinda inevitable to me. I suppose I can try to hold off this big talk for one more day, but my not having a whole romantic getaway planned is almost certain to get us into yet another fight anyway.

For the record here, I am not saying that I'm not really the problem in all this. After all, every relationship is 50/50, so obviously I must be doing my part. But whatever, it is what it is, and right about now it's not seeming like a very fucking Happy Valentine's Day.

But hey -- wishing all the rest of you big hearts and hugs and such with whoever your sweetie is, if you have one. And if you don't, keep in mind it could be worse -- you could be me. Or, even worse -- you could be with me.