It’s impossible to know or so it seems
What I’m supposed to do with you on anything
I know the blame this time is going to fall on me
‘Cause we all recognize that I’m the problem here
– “Ghouls,” by We Are Scientists
Strutter made me a CD a couple of weeks ago with the a bunch of songs on it, including the one above, and that one is by far my favorite song out of all of them. I haven’t told her that, though, despite the fact that she’s asked me which ones I liked several times. Why didn’t I tell her that? Because I’m the problem here. Or at least part of it. She may not be perfect, but I knew that going in to this relationship. I’ve said (and redacted) some unflattering things here about Strutter. I regret that. It wasn’t fair to her and, no matter whether or not what I said true, it was little more than childish finger-pointing.
Perhaps the biggest problem with our relationship was that I’m not a talker. I’ve said things on this blog that I’ve never talked about with anyone face-to-face, because it’s easy to write to the anonymous Internet. Sure, people I know read it, but I don’t have to see their reactions as I write, and I can always screen my phone calls for a few days after posting something that would be otherwise uncomfortable to talk about in person. I just don’t communicate verbally, which means she and I never really talked about our problems, which means that they were never going to be resolved.
Saturday night, I had dinner at my parents’ house and, for the first time ever, talked to my mother about my relationship problems. Jesus, that was hard to do, but I think it helped. (Or started helping, at least.) It was, unfortunately, too late to repair the damage of my relationship with Strutter. She’s packing her things as I write this, and I expect that she and the dogs will be out of the house by the weekend.