R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Listen to it. It should tell you all I need to say right now, but I’ll go ahead and say it anyway, because it will make me feel better.

So I live with to boys. Notice I said boys. There is no earthly way they can be called men when I do everything and 90% of the time I don’t even get a thank you. Yes, sometimes Ed decides to clean the living room, or do the dishes. I appreciate it, I really do. K.C. offered to finish the load of laundry that was in the dryer the other day. Other than that, it’s up to me. I work a full time job that everyone seems to think is a breeze because it’s a “cushy government job”. Try having your boss think that she MUST act like your mother since you don’t live with yours anymore, your co-workers think the only reason you got your job was because of your father, so you have to work twice as hard to get half the respect, not to mention you look like your twelve so not a single customer that walks in takes you seriously. On top of it all every time you make a decision on some sort of work your boss, who trained you personally to her specifications, decides that now, after over a year in this position (two years in this profession) you haven’t had enough training to be able to say that. I come home and tidy up the living room, the clothes on the bedroom floor, and take out something for dinner. I spend about 30 minutes on the computer, make dinner, and work on trying to keep after the boys’ mess.

So basically what I’m trying to say is I have a live-in boyfriend who works 2 jobs, wants to quit the one that’s actually making him money (yes I understand that the other will take a while to start making money, and it IS his dream, that’s fine.), and if hes not working he’s on the X-box 360 playing games. It wouldn’t make me so angry if it wasn’t with Hope. I have asked him umpteen times that if there was one thing he was going to do for me, and even made that a condition of getting back with him (he forgot that), it was please, PLEASE, don’t speak to her, don’t see her, basically avoid her. He keeps going over there, yes he has reasons, but to me they aren’t justified. He doesn’t realize how much it hurts that he HAS to go over there, despite my attempts to get him to just not go. Whatever it is he’s going over there for, the many different things he goes over there for, is just more important to him than any thing I might be feeling. He tells me flat out that I don’t get a choice, he’s going over there either way, it doesn’t matter what I say, and those are his exact words. He says that I just have to deal with his pastimes, and if I can’t, this won’t work. “Deal with it” he says, I say “just like everything else, right?” and he thinks that it is a joke. I’m dealing with it.

I also have a roommate. He was supposed to only be here 3 weeks, to get back on his feet. This was 3 months ago. Yes, he had to find a job, get his car fixed and the like. Those things are done. He asked if he could have a pet squirrel, albeit, jokingly. I almost told him he can’t take care of himself, how the hell does he expect to be able to take care of a pet.

 I’ve gotten very good at keeping my mouth shut. I don’t get a choice for him to be here either. K.C. asks me what Ed did that was so wrong to make me not want him here. I pay most of the bills myself, they come out of my bank account, and no money from anyone else’s paycheck goes in there but what I make. K.C.’s paycheck gets cashed and goes in his pocket, for gas, groceries, and what ever he feels like spending money on. Mostly his take-out lunch everyday, more things for his computer, supporting his pastime, and once in a while I’ll see a bit of it for something I need for work, pantyhose or something like that. I support them for the most part. The bills are all in my name except for the trash,the car, and the house, but the rent, car payment, and car insurance comes out of my check anyway. He tells me we need a roommate to help with the bills because I don’t make enought to pay all the bills myself. Au Contraire dear, yes, I in fact do. And we don’t even have a paying roommate right now. 

I feel like the things I’ve done to help people help themselves took a wrong turn at the “help themselves” sign. The door that was opened to help a friend out seems to have gotten stuck and they decided to have some friends over, now the doormat (i.e. me) cannot be removed without my looking like the selfish person who refuses to help a friend in need out. Helping is different than single handedly supporting, which is what I feel like is happening. Even though I know it is only half true. Yes, like I said, K.C. buys the groceries and gas out of his check. I am taken for granted. They think they somehow earned the right to be waitied on and taken care of. I’m not spoken to unless they need something most of the time, Ed will get up and get things himself, but half the time makes me feel guilty for it. K.C. expects me to cook his dinner, make his plate, and then complains when I forget to bring him the salt, or if the potatoes are different, or the buns taste odd to him.

 I feel alone in this fight. Who the fight is against, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s myself, my own heart trying to keep in line with everything around me. But this is what I was put here for, to make every one else’s life better.