Most Important

Word Count: 1,152

Thinking about the most important relationship in my life is difficult. I guess I’d say it was my old man, but it’s not like he was much of a parent, if you know what I mean. He always fought with my brothers and I, like we were his broke ass thirty-something year old roommates. We were always a burden to him and I think that's what ultimately drove Jamie away.  I remember when we parted ways, I wanted to tell Jamie that I actually wasn’t doing alright. When she left I was both relieved and distressed because she was the only person I knew would take my shit no matter how horrible the fight got. 

And then she left.

I was a piece of work don’t get me wrong, but Jamie had her flaws too. It’s not like she sat there and took my shit. She fought back just as hard and sometimes she started it. I remember one time we were arguing about what kind of rice to buy. Jamie wanted to know my preference, but I don’t know the different types of fucking rice! I asked her what the difference was, just pick a damn box, and then she would get pissed, and said that I should choose because I’m a picky eater. Like, if you are such an expert on rice, buy the damn box yourself. Naturally, she didn’t like hearing that. I distinctly remember she said, “Calvin you’re such a dumbass. Why can’t things ever be simple.” 

As if simple was her middle name! When we lived together, she would take two hours to get ready. Two hours! I would throw on a t-shirt and some jeans, rinse my face, comb my hair a bit and then I'm ready to go. This woman had a whole routine! She would lay out every clothing item she owned on the bed and spend thirty minutes asking me if the colors clashed. Then she would move to the bathroom after she decided she found the best combination and would spend another hour on her hair and make up. Then by the end, she would finally get dressed. When we were running late, that shit would piss me off. 

Now I know what you’re thinking, “Damn Calvin, why are you such an asshole, let her get ready how she wants to get ready.” The thing is I did! I would sit in our living room and finish a whole movie by the time she was done and then she would get pissed off at me because I just sat there while she was getting ready instead of helping her. With what, I will never know. 

Now I know I wasn’t the best boyfriend. I definitely could have been more open with her, but at the time it was hard. I was still caught up in the idea that the only people who needed to know about my problems were myself and I needed to keep that shit locked tight. She knew I used her as a distraction and I would yell at her as an excuse to yell. She was the most forgiving in that way. Somehow she knew what I needed even when I didn’t. Obviously, she got tired of it. I didn’t want to tell her that I was struggling at the mechanic shop. They were laying guys off left and right, and I was stressed that I would be next. She was, and still is an elementary school teacher, so I just thought she didn’t need another problem added to her list. That was the dumbest shit I ever thought because I was causing problems anyway. 

This isn’t to say we didn’t have good moments. We used to have the best laughs together. She was incredibly funny and I would instantly relax the moment she stepped into a room. She thought I was a fucking nut case, but I kept her life interesting. 

I used to take her to this restaurant that was a couple blocks away from our apartment. It was a Mexican joint called Fuego and looked like it was violating several health codes, but the food there was bomb. We used to order the same thing every time we went. The carne asada tacos. We would get extra green salsa and guac. I think we were happiest during our Fuego Nights. They were simple and solid. We knew every Saturday would be our rest day. Date night tacos and no fighting. That day was sacred to us and we never broke it. But what kind of relationship functions on no fighting one day a week? 

 On the night when I knew she couldn’t take it anymore and was ready to leave me, I got the most defensive I had ever been. We were fighting about something stupid again and she said “You’re always like this! You fight me over the smallest things because deep down you don’t want to address the real problem!”

I wasn’t ready to tell her anything, so I remember shouting, “Stop acting like you know everything! I’m fine! Stop trying to dig deeper and look for shit that isn’t there!”

“Well then you need to stop taking it out on me and grow the fuck up!” She responded. She and I both knew I was acting like a child. The very thing that I was claiming I didn’t want to be. I was too deep in my ass to realize that I was a hypocrite and had massive anger issues. I probably turned her into an arguer. I don’t remember her ever telling me that she fought with her siblings the way that we fought. 

I told her, “If you’re so fucking full of yourself, why don’t you just leave like I know you want to!” 

I remember instantly regretting those words the moment they left my mouth. I had never seen her look so hurt. 

“You’re a fucking asshole.” That night she left to sleep at her sister's house.

Our relationship wasn’t the same after that, and I only have myself to blame. I probably should have seeked out help a long time ago, but you know how it is when you come from a family that was absolute shit. We didn’t talk about feelings and we most certainly weren’t allowed to cry. You know the same toxic dad bullshit story. My older brothers were definitely not the types to confide in either. I think she did her best to understand me. Tried to see where I was coming from. I know now I put a lot of stress on her. 

I’m hoping this therapy thing will work because I do want to get better. You asked me about my most important relationship and the only person that came to mind was Jamie. It’s been a month, but I hope she is doing well. Like you said though, progress is progress.