Last night, I felt like a bad girlfriend. Horrible.
When I should have been on a ‘yay-we’re-moving-in-together’ high, I was feeling conflicted, bummed, and well, like a bad girlfriend.
Over something relatively silly, actually.
I had mentioned to M that I was hoping for a low key night as the rest of the weekend would be jam packed, and then he called me on Thursday to ask if I wanted to go to a cookout at a coworker’s house on Friday. He prefaced this conversation with ‘I know you wanted a low-key night but…” and since he was asking about it, I knew it was because he wanted to go to the cookout. So I said yes, hesitantly.
All day on Friday, I wasn’t looking forward to the cookout. I reallyreallyreally just wanted to stay home, pop open some champagne and cheers to signing our apartment. And I tried to convince him. He suggested we bring champagne. Or that we celebrate before we went to the party with a glass of wine. We went back and forth a few times over text and then he tells me they decided to order pizza vs. a cookout.
I had planned my day’s meals according to knowing a cookout would allow me to eat consciously. Pizza wouldn’t allow that, no matter which way you slice it (no pun intended).
That made me feel worse. But I tried to buck up and just go anyway, eating something beforehand, instead. But once I walked in the door, I still didn’t feel like going (note: PMS did NOT HELP this situation!) and was just down that we weren’t going to celebrate together that night. He saw it written all over my face. I couldn’t hide it even though I tried to put on the face.
(as much as I really didn’t want him to be able to read my face, I loved that he did, so instantly. To know someone to that level is, well, something I love about him, and us).
I felt tears well up. I excused myself to the bathroom, trying to hide it.
I walked back out, sat next to him and buried my head in his shoulder, tears streaming. Cue worry, all over his face.
“what’s wrong? Why are you crying? don’t be sad, be happy.”
I let it all out. I was more honest than ever (something I am trying more and more to do ALWAYS because I will not succumb to my past behaviors!).
I don’t want to go. I just want to stay home. And I feel guilty about that. If it were you, you’d support me and come, even if you didn’t want to. I should do that too. But I can’t. I just want to stay home. And I’m sorry. I feel like a bad girlfriend. I feel unsupportive. I feel mean. I feel wrong. I’m sorry.
To which he replied “babe, we don’t have to do everything together. We are going to be living together, we are going to see each other every day. I can’t wait for that. But that also means we can adjust to not doing everything together. I’d feel much worse if you came and weren’t happy than if you stayed home and were.”
We talked more, and just being in his arms, feeling reassured, made me feel better. So much better. About us, about living together, and about our ability to communicate.
As I write this, I still feel a twinge of guilt over not going, and like I showcased bad girlfriend tendencies, but he’s right. I shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. We shouldn’t feel obligated to DO everything together (some things, sure, certain things, sure, but not every last cookout or whatever). This is something I am learning. And will continue to learn as we move in together and continue to maintain balance. I’m not perfect, I obviously have flaws like everyone, but in this instance, I just felt selfish and guilty. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t, but I am glad we talked it through.
That incident was proof to me that we will continue to have balance when we live together. We are who we are, together, or alone, and I truly respect and love that we both have our own independence, despite being such an integral part of each other’s lives.
Some may think that’s a nice-to-have or a small thing, but it’s not. It’s critical, in my opinion.
…okay, so I don’t feel like a bad girlfriend anymore. (I hope I wasn’t. Was I?! <–see, there goes overthinking again).