I have the house all to myself right now. But surprisingly, I wish I wasn't. I wish my parents were home. Not because I want to cuddle with them, I just them around, a familiar face that kind of likes me near my vicinity. Why? It's because of Him, at work.
It's ironic: A long holiday should be a great thing. But if you're obsessed about a problem with a co-worker holidays in fact are the worst thing, because that gives you an extra day to worry about work even though you are at work. I wish I could have relaxed for this Labor Weekend, but despite me going to the State Fair twice and the horse track yesterday (Monday) afternoon all I could think of was Him. Fucking goddamn.
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Have I ever told this story on WAF? Just before I moved down to El Paso to start my internship (wasn't the night before but the night before that, I think) I was watching a movie with my parents in their bedroom. I was cuddled up, underneath the sheets, between them in their California King-sized bed. After the movie was over, I didn't want to leave the bed. So I, who was 24 years old at the time, asked if I could sleep with them that evening, for old times' sake, just because. And they said yes, and they didn't really convince me to leave. In retrospect I am kind of surprised that they were just cool with their grown-ass man sleeping inbetween them. But maybe they know me, they really know me.
Right now it would really be nice if I could just talk to them, about anything. Anything that could make me believe that things are normal and that nothing's wrong at work. Shit, I'd take them lecturing me about going back to school or something, because I'm also used to that, and that would feel like a warm hug after this inexplicable explosion on Friday.
But they are not here. I am alone in this house, alone with my thoughts, fears, doubts and speculation. I hear depression wants to get you alone. Well, here I am.
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You know what's so fucked up about this? Most of the time I've been thinking about Him, I've been dreaming about ways we could make up and be friends. I would go to work and he'd be there, quickly apologizing for his behavior and even smiling. Or we would have a sit-down and talk about why he said what he said, and then we'd shake hands, or even hug it out.
Goddamn, I am so pathetic. I want to be liked, I'm afraid I can't help that. But like my friend said, an apology isn't coming. So I shouldn't apologize, or at least apologize beyond what I already said. Giving him this weekend is ceding power to him, and nothing that could make things better the way I want it to in my illusions is in my control. It's all him, and I have no fucking guarantee he won't rip into me again. So why pretend things could get better?
Because it'll make me look forward to work again. Man, I so don't want to go to work today. I dread it, and I have never dreaded going to work, even in the worst days when I thought I'd be fired for typing so slow and little. I'm this innocent child who thinks things will get better if you just smile and say "please" and "thank you." I have to disabuse myself of the notion even though I don't want to.
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Of course, I can't let Him or anyone else at work see. And I am trying my damndest to get my courage up so I can show up for work like nothing's wrong despite all my inner turmoil.
And you know, if I don't listen to my heart and listen to my brain instead, that would be easy. I was sorry; he accepted my apology. You would thus think that that means that we both have addressed the issue to each other's satisfaction and are now going to move past it -- not forgive necessarily, but move past it. Thinking logically, I thus would have the right to think that it's over.
Sometimes I get mad at myself for thinking so emotionally. I don't want to wonder if things are going to be OK between me and Him; I want to presume that they are, because I said sorry and he said OK. And if not? Honestly, at this point, that's on him. I have pushed past it, but if there's any lingering bitterness on what I did (by mistake, by the way) that means that it is he who is holding a grudge and thus putting his personal feelings ahead of getting the project done.
That is what I think. No -- that is what I know. I just want to believe it in my heart so I can just fucking get on with work.
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However, it is possible, very possible, that my heartache could get cleared up very quickly. My angst and anxiety ultimately springs from uncertainty: Is he going to continue to be nasty with me, or will he lighten up?
I have to ask this guy for things, and it's likely that I'l have something for him first thing in the morning. I will be as nice as I can, without proactively offering an apology for Friday, that he do this for me. It would be awesome if he could do it with a smile, even better if he apologizes for his outburst. But if, I suspect, he is going to be curt with me, says nothing, and/or doesn't even make any eye contact with me as he does this, well, in my mind (and heart) that tells me he's not over it. Fuck, if I even get the sense that he's going to just be his quiet old self I will be convinced that he's not over it.
Either way, I will have certainty. If he addressed what went down Friday like an adult, all will be better. And if he chooses to remain an asshole about it ... well, like my friend said, expect assholes to get mad again about something else, so why bother worrying about it, and Him? In my mind that would mean that he's not going to forgive me for one mistake I made, and I am no longer going to feel sorry about it, because there won't be a goddamn thing I can do that'll patch things up between us, so fuck Him.
I guess that's something to look forward to when I come into work, in a twisted way. Of course, knowing my inability to see all the angles of a situation, there will be a third scenario that crops up where at the end of the day I'm saying to myself, "So are cool or does he still think I'm a putz?"
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