Anger and Insecurity: Time to let him go?

After a couple of months of dating, Roommate wasn’t having fun with her Boy Toy anymore, so she decided last weekend would be a perfect time to let him go. Being that she’s a really nice person and such conversations aren’t really pleasant or fun, she broached the subject in a roundabout way, asking what he thought of “them.” He, being apparently insane, said that, due to his upcoming move, he saw two options for the pair: either Roommate could move with him, or they could break up.* Roommate happily agreed to the latter.

“How does this relate to you, Belle?” you might ask. Initially, I was going to say this relates to me because I don’t want to be the psycho person who assumes too much too soon in a relationship. But, now, I can’t even justify that concern.

I think I’ve mentioned that NRA has, on a few occasions, waited until practically the last possible moment to tell me he’s going out of town or has plans that don’t include me. Although I think it somewhat annoying that he not just clue me in when he knows he’ll be gone, I haven’t said as much because he isn’t technically my boyfriend or anything. Still though, we’re at the point now where we usually talk to each other several times a day and see each other several times a week.

Even though it is pretty much assumed that we will spend a few nights of the week together, he still resists making plans with me in advance. I think I’ve whined here about that before, and I know I talked to him about the thoughtless habit. Since we talked, he’s been a little better at (grudgingly) making plans… although mostly at Roommate’s behest and for weeknights. Weekends seem to be, for the most part, monopolized by outings with the boys and road trips to visit friends.

NRA waited until Friday to mention that he was going up to Baltimore Saturday evening. I casually asked what he was doing, and he said visiting a buddy then launched into a lame diversionary tale. When Roommate asked the same question a little while later, he gave her the same response he’d given me. Verbatim. She, not being in a pseudo-relationship with this guy, was free to call him out on his avoidance of any real answer. Even still, all we got out of it was another lame diversionary tale, this one of much greater length, still with no real details about plans for the evening.

I suppose it was my own naivety that allowed me to assume the Baltimore outing was another guys’ trip. It wasn’t. It involved at least as many girls as guys, from what I gathered when I saw him next. After I found out that fiancées and girlfriends and even just regular old girls who are friends went on this trip, I found myself feeling troubled and insecure. Why didn’t he invite me to go with him? What’s he hiding? Why is he still not letting me meet the friends? Is he hiding me from them? What has he told them about me?

I spent the night tossing and turning in NRA’s bed, waking myself and him on several occasions with loud whimpering noises that signaled I was about to cry in my sleep. I don’t remember my dreams, but I know I woke up feeling just as miserable as I did when we went to bed. The day didn’t make the feelings disappear. In fact, they only intensified.

A huge wave of resentment surfaced when I realized it isn’t just that NRA isn’t including me on all these great, fun times with friends.** It’s hardly just that. When he goes out with his friends, I suffer for it for the next few days at least. He gets obliterated and goes to sleep well after the sun is up when he’s with his friends. And what do I get? I get the shitty hangover days when he’s too tired and sick to get off the couch. I get to listen to him whine about nearly everything. I get to hear he’d rather stay in than go out with me because he dropped $500 last weekend with the boys. I get to hear him tell me he’s too tired for sex. Again.*** Sprinkle all this troubling insecurity and resentment with the bitterness that springs from recalling how NRA pretty much just stopped trying when he found out I wasn’t seeing anyone else and you've got a pretty unhappy Belle here.

When I got home and laid the worries of the day on Roommate’s cutting board, she asked what was making me stick around. I didn’t have an answer for her. And I don’t have an answer for myself.


* In case you didn’t catch that, Boy Toy proposed that Roommate move to some unspecified location with him after two months of unremarkable, un-exclusive dating. Two months. That’s just crazy.
** Great, fun times that he insists on sharing photos and stories from after the fact, mind you, as if he just wants to rub it all in my face.
*** I think I’ve avoided mentioning this little problem in this forum up to this point, but it wasn’t long after we first started having sex that he told me he was too tired one night. This has been repeated on several occasions, despite me being extremely vocal about how I find this behavior inappropriate at this juncture of the relationship. We’re not talking about days when he’s run a marathon, or even gone to the gym, for that matter. Besides, it’s not like the few minutes of mild-to-moderate physical exertion would kill him. I’m not even going to get into the ego-bust it is to hear a member of the horniest demographic on earth repeatedly turn down sex.