An Exercise In Communication

So, I don't know if you guys know this or not, but I work. A LOT. Like, usually 70+ hours a week, not including when I'm at school, and/or volunteer working. Knowing this, and knowing my penchant for overworking, Steven and I decided we would both choose the same day to knock out of our availability, so we could be off together at least once a week.

We chose Thursdays.

I look forward to these days with a fervent excitement, to say the least, because, literally, other than that time, I work. Tuesday night, however, we were sitting on the couch, watching Breakout Kings, when his phone rang. I didn't pause the show, but he went and answered it.

It was his dad. Wanting to go pick up a car.

When?

You guessed it.

Thursday afternoon. Steven agreed.


I was livid and, really, quite hurt.I felt that his willingness to change our plans so quickly, when that would be my only chance to see him showed a lack of priority being placed on us and our relationship.

And, this week became a perfect example of why communication, in a calm, rational way, is so important.

What I SHOULD have said: "Babe, I'd really rather you not go. It hurts my feelings, and makes me feel that our relationship isn't important; I know that's not how you really feel, but because I don't have another chance to really do anything with you, it's important to me to spend time together. We had plans to go swimming or disk golf, and I'd really like for you to try and keep those. I was really looking forward to it."

What I ACTUALLY said: "This isn't fair! We had PLANS! I don't CARE what his schedule is, he needs to find someone else to help! Your dad is an arrogant, selfish BASTARD!" He tried to hold me, to calm me down. I told him some really unfair, untrue, horrible things about how I felt when he touched me.

I was spanked to tears, but not to remorse.

The next day, I was bitter, angry. Every single thing I said to him was tinged with resentment and scorn.

I was spanked again.

I assured him that he could spank me to Hell and back, and it wouldn't change anything.

I was spanked again.

Through all of this, it was not until after he'd gone, when he had really "bailed" that there was any resolution. I told him, in tears, that I was sorry for being hateful, but I didn't want to invalidate the things that I'd said, or the feelings behind them. I wanted him to know that it was hard and painful, and that I'd felt quite neglected by having our date disrupted by car.

And, ya know what?

He listened.

Huh. Communication.

In a rational way.

Who knew that could work?