The Betrayal- My Armoire

Ain't this some shit. I liked him. I swear I did. I wore myself out, trying to find ways that he could fit into my life. And I broke things off with him. I broke it off with Steve *sigh* I kinda hate telling my friends why, because it makes me sound like a bitch, but I'm totes not a bitch. So here's the reason- I asked him to move my armoire, he mucked it up, and I ended it. See? I sound like a bitch, right? But it runs much deeper than that.

Story:
My amazing neighbor, Lisa, is moving soon. I'm going to help Lisa with the move, and she was kind enough to gift me her armoire, as the thing is huge and heavy. The only thing Lisa asked is that I get the damned thing moved. Enter Steve. To give some insight here, Lisa and I both live on the bottom floor of our apartments. We share the same building, but are on opposite sides. Steve and I stopped in to do a recon mission to find the best way to get it moved. We sized it up, and Lisa and I both agreed that the easiest would be from her sliding glass door to my sliding glass door. To give a bit more detail, to come from the parking lot, one would have to go up and down narrow steps to enter our homes. So sliding glass door single level, no steps, right?

Two days later, Steve gets ready to move it. To make a long story short, he took the steps. He dropped the armoire, got scratches on it, smashed a handle, smashed my door, broke off my banister. I was okay when he texted me and told me the mirror broke. But he damned sure left off the other damages. I took one look at this poor armoire and knew it was over. I'll be honest, I was enraged. I genuinely could not figure out how two grown men messed this thing up so bad. I dunno, it just showed poor decision-making to me. I mean we talked about it, we had a plan. And despite the weight, height, and narrow space, the decision was made to go the more difficult way. I guess at this stage in my life, I want a man who is capable of handling stuff.

That wasn't the only thing. I feel like he didn't always listen to my needs. I've been requesting an actual date for forever. Not fucking calling me at 10 o'clock at night and asking me to meet him at a bar. I'm not opposed to the bar scene, but bars should not take the place of a nice night out every now and again. Or the fact that I explained numerous times that I hate being cold and had no desire to go swimming at 12 o'clock at night (cuz its cold!) but it didn't stop him from asking me frequently. Never did I get a call at 4pm, saying "hey, when you get off work (and the sun is still shining and its hot outside), meet me at the pool." I just felt like he didn't recognize that as a full-time mother with a full-time job, I need more than just random meetings. Make me a fucking priority and plan a date.

There was another issue. It kind of involved a personal space issue. I think that in his mind, it was good-natured teasing. In my mind it was irritating as shit. I've had abusive guys in my past who found it cute to do things that genuinely bothered me, so I have a special sensitivity to men that bypass my feelings to do rude things because "its funny." It isn't funny. I don't like it. And I shouldn't have to tell you 3 separate times to knock it off.

So here we are. I know Steve is sorry. He plans to fix the armoire. Perhaps he will, but honestly I doubt it. I dunno, maybe he'll prove me wrong. The armoire is still in my living room and I get annoyed every time I view it. One of my friends described Steve as a "drinking guy." He is. He has a few beers with his guys and enjoys life. Certainly not mad at that. But that isn't the life I lead. And not knocking that life, but it isn't me.

Steve and I still text on the occasion. Perhaps we'll patch things up, but I dunno. It ain't completely over, but it ain't looking good. Its so much bigger than the armoire. The armoire is just a physical manifestation of where things are. I'm looking for a partner. A rider. A man who meets me where I am. I man who I don't have to remind frequently of the big and small things that I need. A man that can move an armoire.