Sometimes I wonder if maybe I just hate him...
He seems like he does everything he can to make my life worse, and he doesn't even notice.
He leaves me holding every single bag of his...and I get more and more sick of it every day.
I feel like sometimes...maybe because of that beast monster of a mother he had...that I have to re-mother him.
But I don't want that job. It shouldn't be my job to raise a good son/lover/boyfriend. Someone who can manage to listen and not just pay attention to his own shit....
Its the little things. I've spent all day spazzing about the cat getting out because he managed it 2x and we've already had 3 get eaten by coyotes ( they run away because they don't like him, i swear...besides that, he's always the one who they get away on) so I have been keeping my eyes out for places they could worm out.
So I go into our room to try and make something of this akwardness...and i see he's got the panels open next to the air conditioner...both a great way to waste cash in the summer, and a cat escape route...so I tell him about it.
He sits and does nothing. I tell him...you know it really needs to get done. He says I know. I say, well were you planing on doing it. Yeah, sooner or later. This isn't a sooner or later thing. ***Silence, a good minute*** Bear... What? Are you going to do anything about it? JESUS...
So I do it myself. What the fuck good is he, except someone to make messes for me to clean up after? I have 3 cats for that, I don't need the boyfriend to complete the set...not with the trouble they worm themselves into.
So I leave and he gives me a cheerful little goodbye...probably has forgotten the whole thing...i hate him for that...i really do.
