How He Would "Punish" Me....and stopped wanting to see me

Someone told me, that to help get over this last big break up, that I should not linger on the good times that I was missing, but remember how bad things got for me, and how miserable I was. Now, this was not from a licensed professional, it was from my mom. My poor mother suffered from months of emails from me, when I was feeling neglected, useless, and at my wit's end. And my mother had so very much wanted him to be a permanent member in our family. She adored him.  So I'll write about some of the bad stuff. 

There were a lot of things that started going sour last summer. He started doing things to, in a sense, punish me. And we stopped sharing dinners together for a while.

Sundays were always for him. Back when I worked nights and weekends, I always had Sundays off unless there were certain events that I had to work. And I spent all of those Sundays with Him. We would spend the day together. We may have done something fun, like going for a walk or a hike or visiting our families. But mostly we spent them doing His errands together, working around His yard, maybe taking an afternoon nap, listening  to music, talking, and cooking a nice meal, having a couple of drinks and watching a movie or a few shows on TV or netflix. I LOVED SUNDAYS. I loved spending that time with him and helping him out.

One summer Sunday night I was particularly upset. Not with him, but about something else. We talked about it, but at bedtime, I was lying there seething while I listened to him breathe. I thought he had been asleep, and I couldn't sleep. So I quietly crept out of bed, went downstairs and poured myself a stiff drink to try to settle down. It was warm and nice outside, so I paced around out there as I ranted on Facebook expressing my feelings while I thought he slept. Well, he comes storming out..."What the hell are you doing??!!" I tell him I couldn't sleep, was upset, thought he was asleep etc. "Why the hell don't you just go home then!" I tell him well maybe I will! But I don't. I settle down and quietly come up to bed a bit later, a tad tipsy, but fell right to sleep. I don't know if he'd fallen asleep or not, he didn't acknowledge me.

After that night he told me, "Sundays don't work for me anymore". I wasn't allowed at his place. For weeks on Sundays he'd come over for maybe an hour or two to my place. He'd either eat dinner or not. At some point we transitioned to it being ok for me to spend Sundays at his place again. We didn't really see each other any other days.  Most Saturdays, but not all, and only briefly during the week, but not always.

There was one night I went over to his place directly after work. It may have been a Saturday when I was still working weekends (but never Sundays). Usually, when I would go to his place for dinner after work, he'd either have been prepping a dinner to cook for us, or have a take out menu ready for us to order from. So I get there in my work clothes, put my leftovers from lunch in his fridge, and see fresh ears of corn in there. And I see chicken defrosting on the counter.

Oooh! What's for dinner tonight!? "What the hell, am I supposed to be cooking for you all day?" Um....it looked like you were preparing something...."Why do you think it's for you?!!" (Um, maybe because I was coming over to have dinner with you....) "Well, I was going to cook for us but now I'm not going too!!!!" (Ok, wtf...) I think we may have ended up ordering take out that night....what the heck did I say wrong?

And then there's the nights that he would come to my place. He would only stay long enough for dinner and a show on Netflix.  But that stopped. I would always offer him a choice in advance. Such as hey...I can cook either this or this, or we can go out, whatever you prefer. I didn't want to dictate to him what we both shall be eating. Because sometimes you are in the mood for something else, am I right? Well no.

"Why do I have to make all the decisions?!" Sorry, I just wanted to give you a choice. I knew he didn't like being told what to do. That's  why I liked offering him a say in it.  So he would come over, and I would ask, should I cook this or that? Or shall I take you out or order pizza? "I'm not hungry", he would say. "Eat what you want."  Many of those nights I went hungry. I lost my appetite, or didn't want to cook if he wasn't going to share the meal with me. After a while I gave up. I'd cook something.  Either he'd eat it or be silent and sullen while I ate and tried to encourage him to have some.

Ok, so you don't want to have dinner with me....do you want to watch a movie? "Whatever you want to do". So I'd find a movie, with no input from him, and watch it with him next to me not paying attention to me, nor watching the show.

I had begun to believe he was suffering from depression. I tip toed around him, trying to make him happy, changed my behaviors with him. Catered towards him and his moods.

Ultimately I failed. I couldn't make him feel happy.  AND he blamed his depressive moods on me. That it was all my fault.