Passive-Agressive Crazy

I suck at communication. I had no idea how badly I sucked at communication until recently, but I do. What's worse? I am passive-aggressive. I HATE PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE. I am so THAT girl. You know, the girl that none of us ever want to be, but inevitably fall into the trap and become? I hate girls that manipulate, that say they aren't mad when they are, that control their significant other's every fucking move.

So, today, the boy comes over. He walks in the door, nods casually in my direction, and starts hooking up his Wii. Please note: he takes his sweet ass time greeting the dogs. So, he starts playing Wii. I start figuring out what is for dinner. Because, you know, we need to make this story AS STEREOTYPICAL AS POSSIBLE.

Boy: playing video games

Girl: Cooking dinner, cleaning, and generally slaving away to make him happy.

OK, I may have exaggerated slightly. He did ask if I wanted to play.

So, I am pissed, right? I was looking forward to seeing him. To spending quality time with him. Instead, I get to do all the cooking and shopping, while he plays Mario Kart. WHAT. THE. HELL.

This evening in my head: Adorable man I love goes shopping with me, helps me cook dinner, and spends the night adoring me in every way possible.

The problem with my head? He won't park on the right side of the grocery store and he will get distracted by shiny things. He will get in my way in the kitchen. He will adore me too much, and I will be forced to vomit on him. But, all of this is his fault, right? RIGHT? Am I crazy?

I AM FUCKING CRAZY. OK, yes, the whole "girlfriend who?" act when he walked in was annoying. But, I could have said something like "hey, you sexy beast, come over here and say hello." Instead I pouted and threw a full blown fit. I slammed some things, I grumbled under my breath. I was a giant stereotypical bag of douche.

I don't know if it is better or worse that I recognize this. It all goes back to communication. I only know how to be THAT woman. I only know how to play that part. I hate it. I know he hates it. And the bottom line is that it is not my personality to be this way. It really isn't.

So, the conclusion that I have come to is that I am bat shit crazy. Padded room, shock treatment crazy. And I am DAMN lucky to find someone who loves me, not in spite of the crazy, but because of it.

But, if he ever figures out that I follow him and take pictures of every person he talks to, I may have to give in and let him turn off my fan when he spends the night. I will be investing in more camo tomorrow.