Another reason I can’t stand this job is that it’s consumes my time and pretty much limits my personal time. Yeah, I know what your thinking, “it’s a bad economy, be glad you got a job.” You know who tells that? All my friends who have $50,000/year jobs with sick leave, vacation pay, weekends off, no nights and perks. I’m working for a company, Shelly Sholes Bar and Grill, who doesn’t even appreciate the hard work an employee give him, let along benefits. All the while, it causes me to miss all the events my friends and family go to on weekends. This little element has made my girlfriend, Chante, heated! So I was thinking with her moved in and all we could work things out and spend more time together. Not so much. Not only do we argue more, but now she was in my, now limited, personal space. I have no personal space—except the bathroom, which I cherished and looked forward to.
Just the other day, I came home at 2:30 am after a nine-hour shift. The only thing on my mind was to eat a sandwich and get to bed so I could get as much sleep as possible before I clocked in at 9:30 am.
As I was making a sandwich, Chante walked into the kitchen in her pajamas saying, “What are you doing?”
I said, “Hey baby. How was your day?” I then kissed.
“Why couldn’t you come in the bedroom and kiss me there?”
Now, the wise man also told me never to agrue with a person unless you’re ready for battle. My blood sugar’s low, which makes it difficult to bit my tongue. “I find it amazing that you find a problem with that. I swear, you can’t cook, can’t sew, you have no hobbies but yet you’re very talented at making problems out of nothing. I won’t complain, at least you got something I can brag about.” I ate my sandwich.
She shook her head. “I’m just concerned! I didn’t see you at all this week. And here you are coming in at 2:30 in the morning. Jessica,” who’s her best friend with no man, “said that whenever a man comes home this late from work, he’s obviously cheating or hanging with his boys.”
“Oh well, if Jessica said, it its obviously true. Why bother arguing or proving her wrong. Hell, if she said I have a baby horse because I had sex with a robot, it’s gotta be true.”
She slammed her fist on the counter. “Why do you always talk to me that way?”
“BABE. Look at me. I’m covered in every sauce in the restaurant. I’m falling asleep and I’m striving. And here you go arguing with me!”
“Because I don’t feel as if you’re trying to do better this relationship. All you care about is yourself and this stupid job. You get no rewards or respect. And yet you care about that more than me.”
I gave her a WTF look. “Really? Babe? Really?” I then reminded her that I spend two days a week, Monday and Tuesday, with her and only her. I always come straight home. The reason I work these hours are because the bussers are lazy and have other priorities. Not to mention, I had to take as much money as I could to pay for my school, $1800 a sememster, out of pocket! I refuse to get student loans because I saw how that was killing my parents. I then reminded her that I’ve been putting in applications every week to get out of the Shelly Sholes. I even reminded her that she helped me fill out the application packets. I say ‘reminding her’ because it seemed like our arguments lately were basically repeating the same arguments we’d been having all the time.
“I just don’t feel close to you any more,” she said. “I’m afraid that I could be wasting my time on you. I want to get married soon and I don’t want some man that’s just going to work all his life and not have time for family.”
At the risk of repeating myself, I said, “Babe, I’m trying. Be patience. Now let me get some sleep, please.” I started to our bedroom.
However, she said under her breath, “That’s what I liked about jessica’s ex-boyfriend. He had a job and he spends almost every day with her.” Notice she said ‘ex.’
“Maybe you should be with him then.”
“Maybe I should. He knows how to talk to a woman,” No! The truth was that Jessica’s ex-boyfriend was so whipped, she lost respect for him and dumbed him. But I was suppose to be like him?
“Here’s an idea,” I said, “let just argue all night long so I can oversleep, miss work, get fired and have you pay all the bills.
“I don’t feel like your trying hard enough.” She said.
“It’s hard to try when I’m dead tired, have to get up in the morning, hungry as hell, and we’re having the same argument over and over. Tell you what: since you like this argument so much, how ‘bout I record this argument so the next time you want to have it you can just play it back with headphones? Then I could get some sleep and some peace and quiet.”
Her eyes grew. “Oh I got your piece and quiet!” She stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. Seconds later, she threw out a blanket and pillow, then slammed the door harder. Damn it! Now I have to wear this same uniform and the same dirty draws and socks.
Hell, as long as she’s quiet.
What do you think? Is this the best way for Nicholas to solve this argument? Do you think Chante could have been more patient?
Authors bio is coming up shortly.
