So with his half a check from unemployment (the last one–50% off!) Brian got a room for two nights. Last night was one of those nights. We ate dinner, he bought breakfast, and that’s it. All gone.
Which means a few things. Mainly, I’m gonna have to work. And that’s fine. But because I have to work and take the reins back, today is gonna be a very bad day.
First of all, it’s “his” room at present. So if a client shows up to soon and he’s not finished getting ready to leave, he’ll flip out in earshot of the client, who I will have to ask to leave.
The fact that Brian will have to leave for me to work is further complicated by his hurt foot, which he already bitches about non stop and beats my dog over, and the fact that it’s raining. So while I’m preparing to house him for the next week, he will make me feel like the scum of the earth for making him leave “his” home under such awful conditions.
If I stand up for myself, the nature of my work will be thrown in my face as an insult, and I’ll be called a whore or a prostitute and told my pussy stinks moments before I’m supposed to entertain a client with a smile on my face.
All of this, he’ll justify by pointing out the volume of my voice while I defend myself from these repeated attacks. Everything he’s done for me, which pales in comparison to what I’ve done for him, will be thrown in my face as a reason why he’s allowed to abuse me, since the scales are assumed to be balanced, and I’m just supposed to shut up and agree. An insistence on my own perspective will lead to me being kicked out, probably moments before a client arrives.
These are predictions, based on two years of knowing Brian. As an experiment, and to show him to himself, I’m stating this at the beginning of the day, before anything has happened. When he kicks me out in about four hours, I’ll update you on how the day went.
Here’s how you really treat me, Brian. You ready for this? Game on.
And he wonders why I don’t want to cuddle.