three Saturdays ago i went out to look at buying myself a motorcycle.
three Tuesdays ago i pulled the trigger, rolling home with a Honda Shadow.
that brought the PSE and i about as close as we've ever come to the end of our relationship.

before i started looking seriously at getting myself a motorcycle the PSE and i were getting along swimmingly.
as good as possible. even better then we ever have in the past.
after close-to thirteen years of acrimony and tumult, it seemed we were finally starting to get used to each other.
when i told the PSE that i was thinking of getting a motorcycle she told me she would rather that i didn't [for reasons spelled out in last Thursday and Friday's posts.]
the PSE didn't outright forbid me from buying myself a motorcycle, but, that's not something i would respect anyway.
when i came home the Tuesday after Memorial Day with a motorcycle i expected the PSE to be a bit sour about it, but i was totally caught off guard by the level the PSE took things to.
i still don't understand it.

when i came home with my new toy i made an effort to be friendly with the PSE.
she was making a show of her displeasure, but i tried to ignore it and talk to her, trying to get her to engage.
but the PSE would not be engaged and i am not the kind to force myself on anybody.
if the PSE didn't want me to talk to her, i didn't have any choice but to respect that.
the PSE has told me in the past that, in situations like this, it helps her to get over fights if i give her hugs and engage with her, but to me, that seems like a violation of her sovereignty and i don't do it.
the PSE is responsible for managing her own emotions.
once the PSE made it clear that she didn't want to talk to me a few Tuesday evenings ago i went about my own business for a while.
i figured this was a PSE problem, not a me-problem, and i tried to be as unfazed by the whole thing as possible.
either the PSE would get over it eventually or she wouldn't and she'd move out.
either way, this unpleasantness wouldn't last forever.

the atmosphere in the house was somewhere between hostile and depressing.
the PSE and i didn't speak to each other except for occasional practicalities, between four to seven words a day.
“did you walk the Monster?” might be all we say to each other one day. “was there any mail?” might be another day's exchange. mostly, though, we existed in silence.
more accurately, the PSE existed in silence.
whenever the PSE and i get into situations like this, i tend to get more noisy. i'll sing or make a series of sound effects.
mostly this is because i'm noisy by nature and if i don't have an outlet to chatter on with the PSE, it'll manifest in other ways.
i am certain this annoys the PSE but she doesn't say anything on account of the silent treatment she is giving me.
i don't do it to be a dick to the PSE, but i don't refrain from doing it to be considerate, either.

our days proceed as follows:
i would wake up at some point in the afternoon and find the bed empty.
the PSE requires much less sleep then i do.
i would go out to the living room and get my day started and the PSE will vacate the living room and go into the bedroom to lay around in the bed.
then i would go into the office which is the bedroom closet and she would leave the bedroom and go back to the living room.
when i would come out of the office/closet to reclaim the living room, the PSE would return to the bedroom.
and so our days would go, ping-ponging back and forth between the only two distinct rooms in the apartment, avoiding each other.
the PSE spent all of her time on her laptop computer doing who-knows-what.
i think she listened to a book on tape for a while, then she was watching different TV programs.
she was probably also talking to her friend The Gibbler on the Face Book Messenger.
i would watch TV by myself.
when bedtime would come i would go to bed alone.
the PSE would get into bed next to me, but that would be hours after i went to sleep and we would never touch.

on a few occasions i tried to offer the PSE food as a way to be nice.
once i went out of my way to get her fast food carry out, another time i warmed up some leftovers and offered her half.
on both occasions the PSE would say “thank you” and go take her food to eat in the bedroom.
on the time i made leftovers the PSE got up and also helped make leftovers, she joined-in to fry up some potato pancakes, which was nice.
another time she made herself a strawberry-banana smoothie and also poured a glass for me.
plenty of other times, though, the PSE only made food for herself.
she ate a lot of macaroni and cheese and broccoli.
which left me to fend for myself for most meals. mostly i subsisted on pretzels from the toaster oven.

on a few occasions i set myself to house chores as a way to be nice.
i would go shopping for supplies, i would clean the house.
i invested no less then four hours scrubbing the bathroom and kitchen one day. i cleaned the stove burners for the first time in the almost-year that we've lived in the apartment.
if the PSE noticed my efforts, she didn't comment.
however, one afternoon i was trying to change the windshield wiper on my TITSwagon, it had snapped off in a rainstorm the evening before, and, watching me fumble with it from the balcony, the PSE came down to the parking lot to offer assistance.
that was nice.

mostly-silent hostility carried on for a long, long time.
from the Saturday i went motorcycle shopping to Sunday, Monday and the Tuesday i bought the bike, then Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.
after a while, my this-is-a-PSE-problem,-not-a-me-problem nonchalance started to wear.
i started to linger in bed a little longer and twice, when i did finally get up to start my day i said, out loud, “this shit again...”
there is only so much living in hostile sadness a person can take.
Friday night at 4:00am the PSE came out from the bedroom as i was getting ready to retire for the night to say “yeah, i don't think we're going to survive this...
i don't see a way past this...”
we argued for the better part of an hour but the crux of my argument was 'the way to get past this is to just get past this...
act like we're getting along, sit with me, watch TV with me, talk to me, hang out with me, and then we'll be getting along.'
but the PSE said she didn't think she would be able to do it.
“okay, then” i shrugged, “that's unfortunate...” because what else is there to say?
tension continued Saturday and Sunday.

Sunday night, 5:00am, the PSE climbed into bed at the same time that i did and wordlessly took my hand.
i gave it a squeeze before falling asleep.
the next day, Monday, the PSE and i resumed talking. not about our fight, just pleasant chit-chat.
we still weren't really touching or making eye contact with each other, but it was nice to talk to the PSE again after so long.
the PSE had an appointment on her calendar to go down to Austin to try out for a Drug Study Tuesday morning.
the plan had been for the PSE to leave Monday night, sleep in her car like she does when she is after a Drug Study, then, after her screening, to go look for an apartment down in Austin.
come Monday evening, however, the PSE was talking to me and it seemed things were on the mend.
when the PSE made to leave for Austin Monday night we hugged before she got into her car and Tuesday afternoon she came back up with me in Fort Worth.
we spent the afternoon talking and getting along.
by Tuesday evening it was fair to say that relations between the PSE and i had returned to normal.
it's a damned-shame that the PSE thought it reasonable to waste ten long days of our lives together in a shitty fight but i'm glad her troubles passed eventually.

//[ab irato ad astra]
.

July 2017

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