You see, I'm sick.
One of the many gifts The Ex left me. Besides an enormous amount of debt and countless commitment issues; our dramatic and painful marriage left me with an immune disorder. Incurable. Unpredictable. And totally mine to deal with.
I rarely think about it. I talk about it even less.
I've been having symptoms lately. Nothing horrid. I can handle it. I always can. I always do. The part I'm having a hard time handling is the The Lonely. It creeps up on me at times like this. When it knows I'm at my most vulnerable. To remind me of who I was, where I've been and what happened to me as a result.
I've never been the type of person to ask for help. I don't like to impose my issues, or pain on others. I'm an isolator. Before moving to The Plex, I had spent most of my time alone. Since my divorce the only people I've allowed near me have been the occasional men I chose to date.
Unfortunately I didn't choose wisely. Since most of my marriage was centered around The Ex and his issues; you would think that I would have learned my lesson. I didn't. During a time where I had every right to be selfish and concentrate on me, I decided to choose the worst type of men to be with. Between Huge Assholes insecurities and Nutty as a Fruitcakes soul sucking need for constant attention I was left with little to zero support for me. If I was feeling ill, I would hide it from them. It was lonely but what other choice did I have? How is a person who has issues with asking for help ask for attention from whiny soul sucking dicks?
Huge Asshole was with me when I had to go for my third MRI. He had slept over and was still snug in my bed as I was getting ready for my appointment. I was sitting in front of my mirror putting on my makeup the whole time fighting back the tears.
I hated this. The doctors. The machines. The needles. Not because of the process. That I could handle. I hated it because it was a reminder that I wasn't ok. That I was damaged. That I was weak.
I went over to the bed to give Huge Asshole a kiss goodbye.
"Your leaving?" he mumbles.
"Yep," I replied.
"Did you want me to come?" he asks, eyes still closed.
"No, it's fine. I'll call you after," I told him.
Satisfied with my answer he rolled over and went back to sleep.
I was lying ofcourse. I absolutely wanted him to come. I wanted someone to be there with me. I wanted to be driven and taken care of and reminded that I wasn't alone. Most of all I wanted him to know all these things without me having to ask for it.
I made excuses for him all the way to the hospital. I blamed myself for not asking him. I blamed myself for not telling him how all of this made me feel...
I was alone the first time I was diagnosed. I was alone during the subsequential testing and huge doses of drugs afterwards as well. The Ex always offered to come. I would always decline. It was never a fight. He would ask, I would reply no, and that was that. A quick kiss and, "let me know how it goes babe," was all he ever gave me.
I would make excuses for him too. He needed to work. I was strong. This was my problem and I would take care of it. Alone. He offered, I said no, so it was my fault he wasn't with me...
That's how I use to think. You know what I realize now? All of that is total bullshit! If the tables had been turned, I would have been there. I wouldn't have asked. I would have been in the car ready to go with the fucking engine running...
When I met Nutty, I thought I had finally met someone who cared. About me. He was so attentive! He worshiped me. If I was upset he wouldn't leave my side until he knew I felt better.
One night I had been exhausted, this was before we had slept together, and Nutty had tucked me into bed. He curled up next to me and played with my hair until I drifted off to dream land. Then he got up, turned off the lights and showed himself out.
"Wow!" I thought the next day. "Here's a guy who cares about me. Here's a guy who will take care of me."
The following winter I caught a cold which was piggy backed by bronchitis and then mutated itself into what I'm pretty sure was the Swine flu. One of the many side effects of my shitty immunity. A little sick because a lot within hours. I had a 103 degree fever for 3 days straight. I was deathly ill for a week.
The first day I was sick I had driven home with a 101 degree temperature. I had just got home and collapsed on my couch when Nutty called.
"Ahhh, Pee-Shee joon. Come over. I'll take care of you!" he tells me.
"Pee-Shee joon" means "Kitty Love", more or less, in Farsi. It was one of his many, and favorite nicknames for me. I'm not exactly sure why, but men have always compared me to a cat. My face, the noises I make, the way I stretch and lounge have all driven them to see a resemblance to those finicky felines. I'm sure my attitude may have a little something to do with it as well. That's cool. Cat's are aloof little bitches. I can deal with that.
"Dude, I can't. I just want to sleep. I almost ran off the road on my way home," I said to him.
"Come on...come on Pee-Shee. Come to me! Come to me. Come,"he begins to repeat over and over again. He loves to call to me like I'm an animal. The weirdo actually started to whistle.
"That's not going to work dude," I tell him, too fevered to care if I'm being an ass. "Cat's don't respond to being called to. They come when they want."
And right now, I don't want, so leave me the hell alone and let me sleep asshole.
But he wouldn't take no for an answer. His car was in the shop so he wasn't able to pick me up. His roommate wouldn't be off for another couple of hours and considering Mr Selfish Bastard wanted me with him right that second the only option was for me to drive to him.
I finally gave in. I was worried about being sick and alone. Atleast he was offering and being persistent about it right? It showed he cared. So I dragged myself off my couch, threw on some outdoor PJ's and by a miracle of god I somehow made it to his apartment in one piece.
Part of me was excited. For the first time someone was putting me first. I was ill and he wanted me to be with him. He wanted to take care of me. I was going to be able to stay at his apartment and enjoy someones nurturing care for once...Or so I thought.
The guy almost killed me.
Where do I begin? I was at his house for 3 or 4 days. I'm not exactly sure how long. I was more than a little out of it. My fever never let up during that time. I was in so much pain. My every move made my body ache and throbe. That didn't stop Nutty. Every chance he got he would still wrap me into his anaconda like embrace and suffocate me into cuddling submission. I told him my body hurt. I told him I was hot. But he didn't care. He loved me. He wanted to hold me. He was certain that his overpowering affection would cure me. I was too weak to push him off so I slept the best I could with his massive Leech like arms painfully wrapped around me.
All I wanted was to cool down! One of the days I asked Nutty if he would take a cold wet wash cloth and wipe me down with it. My mom used to do that for me when I was little and fevering and it always did the trick.
He wouldn't do it! Not because he didn't think it would work but because the wet wash cloth grossed him out. You heard me. My gay ass ex boyfriend didn't want to touch the yucky wash cloth! So instead he gave it to me and held me as I very unsuccessfully tried to wipe my own body down around his massive body. Unbelievable.
I thought that would be worse of it until one day he had the bright idea to use a few pumps of hand sanitizer to disinfect my mouth.
"I know what will help!" he announced proudly, right before pumping 5 pumps of gel into his hand and promptly smearing it onto my nose and mouth.
It was horrible!! I couldn't breath! I choked and gagged, each new breath sending the searing eye watering alcohol deeper into my lungs.
"He's trying to kill me!" I thought. "And no one knows where I am. I'm going to be smothered to death by a doe eyed underwear model!"
That's when I first knew. He and I would never last. We couldn't.
There would be times I would get sick. Times where I wouldn't be able to hide it or take care of myself. Was this really the person I wanted to be there with me? Sure he would offer to help but at what price? You have to give the guy credit though. It's not often a person can figure out how to be a selfless needy retarded bastard all at the same time...
Three relationships. All leaving me feeling even more alone than if I was actually...alone. It sucks to be in pain and have to deal with it by yourself. But I do it. Because for most of my life that's the way it has had to be.
I do realize things are different now, but I still can't ask for help. I know I'm not alone anymore. My roomies at The Plex love me. They would be here for me. One word to Hippie Chick about my ailments and she would put the boys to work to help ease my pain immediately.
But I won't ask. I won't impose. I'll deal with this on my own because that's what I've done since my family left the state. I take care of me.
Than there is The Rocker. I know I should say something to him. I know I should share. He isn't selfish. He isn't needy. He would be concerned and would do anything he could to help ease my pain.
But I can't. I'm afraid. I don't want him to think of me as damaged goods. It's bad enough I'm divorced. I don't really feel the need to add the illness bomb to the equation.
I should come with a warning label, "Beware!! If you date this broad you will be Blogged about and dissected for the world to read, you will have to deal with her multiple exes and their incessant cameos and oh did we mention?! She's damaged goods. Divorcee, and a diseased whore!"
Ok. maybe I'm exaggerating a bit. Whatever. I'm not feeling well so I'm allowed.
I'm sure I'll feel better in the morning. I usually do. I can deal with what comes.
The question is, can The Rocker? Do I share more details of what I go through or do I wait? When is it the right time to get real in a relationship?
I think it's too soon. I know I won't have to worry about him not wanting to deal like Huge Asshole or him turning into an overpowering needy bastard like Nutty. God there is nothing worse than having to comfort someone else because your in pain.
It's too soon because we are still in the beginning stages of our love. He said it himself. A few weeks ago he was sick and refused to let me come over. Partially because he didn't want to get me sick but also because he didn't want me to feel the need to take care of him.
"Its too soon for you to have to do that," he told me. "I'm disgusting right now, give me a few days and I'll get better."
I was hurt. I told him so later. I told him, "If you think its too soon for me to take care of you when your was sick than it was too soon for me to say that I loved you. Because that's what you do when you love someone. You take care of them."
Not because they ask. But because you love them and wouldn't have it any other way.
He felt bad after I said that. I felt worse. If he wanted to be alone, I was ok with that. I wasn't afraid that he didn't love me. Or that he would think that I didn't love him.
I was afraid that I would get sick one day. That I would want to ask him for help but hesitate because I would remember his words,"It's too soon for you to have to do that...."
I hate asking for help. I hate to appear weak. I hate to be a drain. But that's what I am. I may appear to be strong. I work hard at it. Men have tried to break me down. Girls have pushed their insecurities upon me and tried to taunt me into argument's. Nothing phases me. Because I've been through worse. I took care of it. I took care of me.
But I know the truth. My past and the dramas of the present have little effect on me because I know that the worse is yet to come. I don't know when. I'm not sure how. But it will. One day I won't have a choice. I'll have to ask for help. I'll have to find someone to take care of me.
Will The Rocker want to be apart of that? If it's too soon for me to take care of him when he has a cold what happens when I can't walk for a while? When the doctors force me to take the body altering drugs that I've up to now refused to digest? What if I temporarily go blind? All of these are possibilities and realities. Would he want to be apart of that?
I can't ask. I won't. It's too soon for those questions.
For now, I'm ok. Just a few random symptoms that I can't help but blow up into life altering dramas. That's what I do. I exaggerate. I stretch. I pull. I predict.
I guess there is one thing I can miss about being single. Bouncing around from guy to guy and dealing with their insanities had provided a nice distraction from my past.
I've spent so much time trying to figure out who I should be these last 6 months that I forgot who I was.
Now I remember. I'm the girl who takes care of me. So for now, that's who I'll be.
I think I should share more with you Dear Reader. About my past. About who I was. Who I've been. I think it will help. Both of us.
I may not start at the beginning. I may bounce around a bit. But when all is said and done, you will know. You will know the origins of this Super Hero.
But for now, it's back to the Bat Cave for me. I need to sleep.
WCC
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