Friday, 2 December 2011

Relationships are hard fucking work.

So I've been officially with my lady friend for around 4 months now officially (and by that I mean it's on Facebook, which is apparently law over all these kind of things) and I was seeing her for about two months before that. I think we can safely say the honeymoon period is over.

What makes this worse is, we're still as strong as the day we met, which tells me that, "holy shit, this is the one!"

Rejoice, right? Fuck no, she's the best thing that has ever happened to me. Do you know how many girls I've dated and told I've loved? ALL OF THEM. The thing is, to me at the time, it seemed like the natural progression of things, you know? When you're a kid, it's not like you can move in or get married, so there are really only three steps, first kiss, first fuck, first time saying those words.

I'll let you into a little secret about me. From a young age, around 11, I was always aware at how muted I can feel to certain things. It had played on my mind for a long, long time, and as you can imagine, this stuff messes with a young mind.

My brother's friend, who at the time was graduating from a psych major, focusing on young men and gaming, told my brother he was afraid I might be border-line emotionally retarded.

Now, if I could punch someone in the face for every time a psych major thought they were fucking Freud (which in itself is perhaps a Freudian concept depending on how you read that sentence you sick fuck. He's dead, that's illegal) then I'd be Bruce Willis at the end of Sin City. If you don't get what that means, go YouTube "Sin City: Take Away the Weapons". I'll wait.

Thing is, this kinda rang true. When my Dad had a heart attack, I watched the ambulance go without feeling anything at all, when my Mum went in to surgery to have a tumor removed, nothing. People kept trying to comfort me but I didn't feel a single damn thing.

As I grew up, I later discovered that I'm not emotionally retarded, but I'm just a typical male taken to extremes who bottles everything up. Weeks, maybe months after events happen, I would break down screaming, or someone would trigger it and I would lose all consciousness for a handful of minutes where I go into a violent rage.

The point is, I never felt anything until the crisis point, a breakup for instance, or a punch, or a particularly cutting line (like being accused of not caring that my Dad had a heart attack). When I tell people of these stories, they tend to take them as stories, or find them funny, even attempting to instigate one of these violent episodes, that is, until they experience them.

In my last year of uni, one of my housemates drove 100 miles home literally a couple of minutes after I exploded at him, punching holes in walls while my knuckles ran with blood screaming in his face. A few months later, a friend drunkenly started pushing and hitting me in a club to try and trigger the reaction, immediately being punched in the throat, thrown to the floor and pinned down with my foot.

My issues are not a joke, they're not stories, they are warnings. Joke with me, whatever, but do not fuck with me. I do not find it funny, and neither will you.

However, recently, it's been changing. I don't feel the rage building, but more I feel sadness. My cat died recently, after 20 years of life. He was my best friend in the whole damn world, that little furry fucker. He would sit on my bed for hours watching me on the PC, every now and then climbing on the very desk I use now and sleeping between my arms.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I have cried in excess of ten times thinking about him since his death. I'm not talking merely tears, but full on nervous breakdowns, unable to think for the gut-wrenching pain of loss.

I talk openly to my girl about these things, when I'm upset, I tell her. I have a vent, a way to explain myself without being judged.

I still have moments where I want to hit someone so hard the police can track my fingerprints on their face's, but they are more measured, more rational. She listens, she helps me feel less of a freak, and a little more human.

I have a lot of problems, some that nobody knows about and probably never will, but so does everyone else. All of these perceptions have been opened to me by this one, amazing person. I feel every emotion that was suppressed by years of computer games.

You see, the hard work isn't because she's hard work to be with, it's because I can't even conceive a world without her. She has made my life so much better and she will never even realise why, which is a good thing. The last thing I ever want her to see are my problems first hand, because they are scary and people are terrified by me after they happen.

She makes me so much better, and I feel bad acknowledging that, fuck, I need this girl. I rely on her far more than she relies on me. It's a little difficult to deal with sometimes, knowing I need her more than she needs me, but there it is.

Sometimes, just sometimes, hard work is worth it.

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