I’m Controlling?

So I went over to Clay’s yesterday afternoon, and spent the night. He had work in the evening, but before he went, he and I got to talking, and while I don’t remember how we got to this, he was clearly not saying something. I kept pressing him, and he finally said, “You’re very controlling.”

Um. What? I mean, okay, I’m not completely blind to my faults (or at least I hope not), and I know damn well I do have controlling tendencies. But I really do try quite hard not to let the controlling side be who I am. I try to squish it down. I guess I fail…?

When he and I first began hanging out as FWB, I told him straight up (I was a little drunk) that if he ever tries to control me, I won’t speak to him again. I only said that because John Doe got pissed when I wanted to hang out with an old family guy friend (someone who had left state when I was 12, so clearly there had never been anything between us) and he’d try to do the whole manipulate me thing. Which…actually, worked for the most part. There are other instances, but yeah. I wasn’t willing to let another guy make me feel the way he did.

At the same time, I don’t recall ever telling Clay what he could/couldn’t do. One night, he went out with his friends, and said he’d be home around midnight. I had work at 7am, and went to bed without him. I woke up around 1am, and he still wasn’t home. I was slightly concerned, but fell back to sleep. He came in around 5am, and I didn’t yell, pout, hold it against him- nothing. Sure, I was irritated that he came in that late (early?) drunk as fuck and woke me up. I was also pissed he didn’t even text me at all throughout the night to say he was okay.

Maybe I am blind to my faults, because I can’t really think of a time I was controlling.

Sure, the last six months at least, I tell him he needs to quit drinking. I’ve told him we won’t be together if he keeps drinking, although that was last summer.

But that isn’t me trying to be controlling. It’s me wanting my baby to have a sober dad who I can trust to take her for a weekend. It’s me wanting my baby to know she’s more important than a bottle of vodka.

I’ve already accepted after two years that I’ll never be a priority to him; that he’ll never put the bottle down for me. But for our daughter? Please, just stop. Just fucking stop.

I asked him when we went to bed why he stayed with me for so long. He said “hope.”

Hope? Hope for what? To make it work with me? I didn’t say anything else. But all I could think was why?

He says I’m controlling, mean to him (which I know sometimes I was, and I could justify it, but it doesn’t change the fact), once said I’m not the best in bed he’s had (duh, I know he’s probably had a better experience than me, but you don’t fucking tell someone that), and we have like nothing in common.

He wanted me to meet some of his co-workers last night. I said no. We’re not together, and I’m really not a fan of meeting people he talks about me too. It’s awkward.

I don’t know. Sigh.


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