I needed somewhere to get the words running around inside my head out so that I can actually manage to go to sleep and I guess it might as well be here.
So the parents bought a PS3 today because it's Boxing Day and they like buying... stuff. Since my parents are not gamers in any sense of the word.
Anyway, the boyfriend texts me and I reply with general "what's up, whatcha doing, parents bought a ps3 I'm in the middle of setting it up for them" or whatever kind of message. Eventually this leads to talking on the phone, and it ends pretty much with him saying he'll come over in a while but he's gotta go 'cause he has my present to fix up.
So I go back to working on the PS3, and I get it up to speed with all the internet connectivity bits and the updates and then download a demo to test it out with because the parents did not think far enough to consider buying a game.
The boyfriend gets in around halfway through my playing the demo of FEAR2 and proceeds to first hand me Demon's Souls (a fantasy action RPG) first specifying that it was Carter's and that I could only play it for a day or two. Which is fine, cool, thanks. And then he proceeded to make fun of the new shiny, the game, my playing, and then to dictate exactly what I was supposed to do.
...I've beaten FEAR2(PC) on hard before. I may not know step-by-step how each map is laid out, but I do know reasonably well how to play it. I know I'm bad at adjusting to new control settings. Shitty keymaps on a controller make for especially crap playing when the joystick zips my targeting right past the whole enemy soldier dude and I have to flick it several times to adjust it (meanwhile, said guy is also ducking away and/or emptying a clip into my face) and "just kill him!" is not good advice. (I am thankful, however, that he is not one of those asshats that grab the controller away with a "no like THIS.")
Okay then. I give up on FEAR2, I move on to testing out the shiny new actual game (side note: Demon's Souls introduction is totally modeled after Disney's Fern Gully, the voiceover made me sit up and stare) which involved me running around and eventually dying, playing some more, and eventually giving up and wandering back upstairs to play Killing Floor.
A couple of rounds later, Dad starts downloading something for work, skyrocketing my ping to 200+, which makes being a berzerker, even a bad one, difficult to play. I stop, flop over on the bed with Dan and at some point in time, I say "so so so what's my present? :D"
Which he responds with "OH, you mean I haven't gotten you enough presents already?"
So, apparently lending me a game for a day was my present. In a phone conversation about it afterward, he said something along the lines of "oh, I didn't know presents had to be about handing over permanent ownership of stuff, I thought it was about the doing of a thing too" in that oh-look-at-you-just-wanting-more-stuff tone. I don't, actually. I don't demand that more stuff be bought for me on a timely basis, I have always had a healthy disgust of people like that. I just misunderstood because no, actually, lending me someone else's game didn't actually make me assume at all that hey, this is my present.
Of course, after this misunderstanding I must have made a bad situation worse by asking him to list me what he considered to be Christmas presents. I am the first to admit he pays for a lot of stuff for me, oftentimes as if just to prove he has a faster wallet-draw than me at the cashier. Does all of that count? Even the presents I'm trying to buy for other people and that he intercepts while I'm fumbling for correct denominations of cash? I wanted to know. First out of genuine curiosity, second because I haven't found anything for him for Christmas and I really would like to make sure I don't cheap out on a gift if there's so many he feels he's gotten me.
And then making a worse situation, he'd mentioned getting me the Killing Floor DLC skin pack, and I giggled a little that he'd mention it on his list because it's $1.95 on Steam, and the first time he'd urged me to get it was in a game where everyone else was wearing the yellow hazmat suit and calling themselves bananas while at the same time loling at each other about the terrible, life-sucking, wallet-draining price of those suits. But evidently, this was forgotten in favor of being terribly insulted, and his trying to flounce off back to Kitchener.
So things get uncomfortable, we are both terribly unhappy and insulted by each other, then better, dinner comes, movie follows, he leaves amiable.
...But that's not good enough for me. If something has gone wrong, especially in a relationship, I've learned that letting it lie just doesn't work and I want to discuss it. I've had years enough about being a guy about things. Fuck that. So the phone conversation we have when he gets home eventually leads back to it because I tell him I'm still sad. And he gets all defensive, essentially demanding me why I have any right to be sad. There are very few things that sound more patronizing than such phrases like "are you listening to yourself?"
Because yes. I get it. I'm quite at fault myself. I get why he's upset. I get that the words "is that it?" sound terrible, though it was said after the situation while I was describing it, not during, and bringing it up as if that was the reason he felt hurt then was unfair and a lie.
But what does upset me is that he doesn't get why I would be upset. At all. Oh, I don't know. Maybe implying that I'm a cheap golddigger? That I'm calling him a cheap bastard and demanding a receipt for the presents he gives me when he should know damn fucking well that I would never do any of that and the idea of it disgusts me? Because it's insulting and hurtful when I try my damndest not to be anything like that?
Is it just so hard to have a little fucking faith in me that hey, I'm not like that, don't jump to conclusions when you know better? He's spent a good 90% of our relationship telling me half the reason he likes me as much as he does is because I'm not actually like that at all, but he's still completely ready to assume I am in spite of that. That's not exactly easy or pleasant to stomach from someone you love.
...I have no idea where I'm going with this now. I'm just tired, and upset, and sick of being curled up in bed crying in the early hours of the morning. Fuck self-pity, it never does me any good, it just makes me bitter and I am determined not to be that.
To all the rest of you, hope you all had a good Christmas! Regular Steph-schedule will resume upon my waking because I'm certain there are things that I have forgotten to do and I am in no fit state of mind to do them.