As I mentioned before, my optimism is broken. After all of the ups and downs, the roller coaster of living with the fiance’, I expect the worst. I’m trying to get better about it, really I am. He hasn’t let me down since he turned over his new leaf, but then there was last night. He called from work. He and his new co-workers of nine days had a busy day and wanted to go get a beer to celebrate it being over. We couldn’t spare the money and I had cooked dinner and was waiting on him to eat (at 1 am). Nonetheless, I gave him the go ahead and went to bed.
And now it’s noon. And he hasn’t come home yet. Or called. He’s supposed to be at work at three. Maybe he just passed out at a friend’s house and has a ride and an alarm set and will breeze through, shower, and hit the road to work. Maybe. My guess? He was pretty high-flying manic two days ago, so now he’ll crash. He’ll be too hung over to go to work, but won’t be able to call off sick since he was out with his co-workers. He either met someone last night and hooked up and is hiding at her house or is at a friend’s who won’t wake him up with no ride and knows he’s not welcome here if he quits another job. So, he’s out with my ATM card (with $11 on it after his partying last night), I can’t deposit his check without the card, and the minute 2:30 comes and goes without him running in to grab his work clothes, I’ll know it’s over. And then he’ll hit one of his depressions. The low that is too low to get off the couch.
Two and half hours to go. Maybe my pessimism is wrong. Maybe he’ll pull through and surprise me. Maybe. But if not, he will have succeeded in breaking my heart for real. And at this point, I’m so pissed I can’t even get ready for the tears til the screaming is over.