The differences between men and women seem so objective and imaginary sometimes that we forget that there really are some concrete, undeniable differences. The most obvious is that men can’t bear children. From this one difference leaks a flood of differences – differences of opinion, failure to understand how hard some situations can really be, and how unfair some opinions really are.
Right now my skin crawls when I think too long about how unfair it is that I just had to do what I did, that I was coerced by everyone around me who knew because of his opinion on the subject, and that he forced me to suffer it alone. What really bothers me is that I know he’s telling everyone only half the story. The half that makes him look good. The half that makes my actions seem irrational, demanding – even crazy and I can’t in good faith share my side.
I have to hold my tongue, bide my time, allow the secrets to melt me from the inside out until it’s no longer inappropriate or obvious that I’m talking about him. I have to wait until my intent can not be misconstrued. I have to wait until telling my story is simply me sharing my side of the story and not an attempt to slander his character.
I’m angry with him for everything that happened or that he didn’t do, but I’m especially angry that, again, I am in a position where I have to keep secrets and it’s his fault. I’m angry that he couldn’t make me hate him enough that I could ignore any damage I may do to him by being completely honest. I’m angry that I can’t just write here, right now exactly what happened, exactly how it made me feel and exactly why and I’m angry that it’s all because of him.
Mostly I’m angry that I’m so incredibly sad and I’m angry that there isn’t a single decision I’ve made in the past ten days that was actually mine.