One would think that after 45 years of living together, two individuals could work things out and not have so many disagreements. If one would think that as it applies to me and my relationship with my Life Partner Bill, one would be wrong. Again, Bill isn't speaking to me.
This is a pattern he has repeated with regularity in all our 45 years of living together. I used to think I was at fault. Then about ten years ago I saw him do the same thing to his friend Damon. Bill met Damon at the cancer clinic where he was taking my Mother for her radiation treatments. Damon works at the clinic as a radiologist. They struck up a friendship right away. Damon is a very handsome man with crystal blue eyes. Bill always was a sucker for blue eyes (I have blue eyes.) Bill met Damon's large family (ten now and growing) and fell in love with them. Now if Bill could get mad at Damon for the flimsiests of reason, then it's on Bill. Damon is one of the most unselfish, good hearted people I've ever met. That was when I realized that Bill had these periods of getting mad a people that he liked very much just to test them and see if they really liked him. Bill was doing the same thing to his new friend Damon that he had been doing to me for many years. Some have asked why I put up with this. That would be a whole another subject for a future blog posting. I don't want to go into those areas on this post.
Well, one day Bill comes home early from a Saturday with Damon's family. I asked him what was wrong. He said he wasn't speaking to Damon. I asked him why? I forget the reason, but it was something of small import. Which is interesting because of all the big fights or disagreements Bill and I have had over the years it is always of things I can't remember. But, that was the day I realized "Maybe it's not me and it's Bill. Maybe Bill is the problem."
This afternoon we're driving back from Milton. I made a quick run to the local super market. I always ask Bill if he wants to go along for the ride. He usually does. Unfortunately, Bill has a bad, bad habit of back seat driving. In this case he's sitting in the passenger seat.
Once, at a Milton intersection he almost caused me to have an accident. I was waiting to go straight through the intersection behind a car that was waiting to make a left hand turn. Bill told me to pass the car on the right. Just to keep him from yelling at me, I proceed to pass the car in front of me on the right, crossing the solid white line as I did. As I was passing the car I almost hit an oncoming car making a left hand turn through the intersection going the opposite direction! Phew! That was a close call. I should never have passed on the right let alone across a solid white line. I said that out loud to no one in particular, that's just how relieved I was not to have a head on crash through that intersection. That was cause for Bill not to speak for me for over a week. He vowed never to ride with me again.
He eventually got over that mad on and began going with me on my errands. Most times he keeps his urges to himself of telling me how to drive. I've told him I don't know how many times, there is only one person at a time that can drive a car. But Bill has such an urge to control everything I do, he can't help himself. God forbid if I should offer advice to him on how to drive. Hell, I can't even tell him when he's pulling in front of a car that is about to hit us. I have to keep my mouth shut which I usually do except when I see we're about to be hit by another vehicle.
Bill is the classic Road Rage driver. That's why I would rather drive. There have been too many times in the past when I have been embarrassed by his uncontrollable temper. It's a wonder he hasn't been arrested.
This is the incident today that caused his rage. To get to where we live off of Rt. 1. I have to make a left hand turn on Rt. 1. I have to wait for a break in the north bound traffic on Rt. 1. Sometimes there are northbound vehicles (I'm southbound when I'm making my left hand turn) waiting in the center island to make a right hand turn. Today was such a day. Two large Sposato landscaping vehicles were waiting to make a turn. Bill tells me to also pull in the island. Normally I would wait until these to vehicles made their turns then I would get into the island so I would have a clear view. But today I listened to Bill (again to avoid him yelling at me) and placed my car in the island. Once there I could not see the traffic going northbound on Rt. 1. Bill tells me "Go!" I hesitated because I couldn't see the traffic. He yells "Go!" again. I tell him "I can't see." He says "When I say Go! Go!" I didn't. I tell him "What's the hurry? We'll still get home." What? A minute later? So what? As usual with Bill there is no discussion (he would lose the argument anyway.) He yells "Hush!" "Hush!"
When we get home he goes into his bedroom and locks the door. I put the groceries away and go down and knock on the door. He says "Leave me alone!" So here we are again. I'll get the silent treatment for about a week on this episode.
I've seen this movie before. In fact, I've seen this movie many times. It's not one of my favorite movies.
In the past, when I used to think it was my fault, I would go out and buy some things. Yes, I was a classic spendaholic. I can't do these days. I'm poor. Plus, since I know it's not my fault, I don't have the guilt feelings I have to assuage. Now what I do is housework. Thus tonight was a perfect time for catch up on my cooking. Bill wouldn't be in the kitchen complaining about what I had on TV (the MSNBC lineup of Chris Matthews, Ed Schultz, Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow) so I could cook up a bath of food for the following week. That I did. Here is what I cooked (all homemade):
I'm set for the week now. If he's still not speaking to me by Friday, I'll shampoo the rugs (he hates it when I shampoo the rugs, he doesn't think they need shampooing.) If he's not speaking to me by Saturday, then it will be a good time for me to finally attack my storage room in the basement and finally finish unpacking the remaining boxes of our move to Delaware in November of 2006.
Say, I wonder if this isn't all a ruse to get me to clean out those boxes? Nah.