Petty Woes

Himself has to work this weekend, and I am responding with my usual mélange of conflicting emotions:

1. I’m irritated, because we have plans, and because we only have alternate weekends together as it is.
2. I’m jealous of anything that cuts into our time together, because there’s just never quite enough of it.
3. I guilt-ridden, because:
1. The alternate weekends thing is what lets him spend time with his daughter. We agreed at the beginning that the children come first so it’s been part of the deal since we started seeing each other - and I don’t ever want him to feel guilty or torn about spending time with her.
2. His job is important and has a lot of potential. Plus he’s still getting his bearings and wants to make a good impression, and we knew there’d be long hours involved when he accepted the position.
3. it’s a hell of a lot better than this time last year, when he was working 4 hours away, and we had no time together at all during the week.
4. I’m torn, because as much as I want to be noble and say “Your job’s more important, spend all the time you need at work.” I don’t want his job to be more important.
5. I’m pathetic, because part of me thinks his job really is more important than spending time with me, or that it should be, anyhow. Because I don’t deserve his attention.
6. I’m insecure, because a little part of me says “Don’t nag, he can walk out any time he wants. Be grateful for the time he’s willing to spend with me.”
7. I’m aware that #5 is insane, because 98% of me knows we’re great together and that he’s not going anywhere (except, obviously, to work this weekend), and that this is all small stuff, not worth sweating about. In the grand scheme of things, a few hours on the weekend is no big deal.
8. I’m lucky, because I have a man who loves me, who wants to be with me, who understands me … who will do his very best to make sure we still have a weekend together even if he does have to work, because he thinks I’m worth it.

Oh, what a tangled web we weave … although there’s no deception here. Self-delusion, perhaps, but no outright deception. Still, it’s a right old mess of tangled thoughts, ain’t it?