Who Are You?

It's been extremely busy at work; no surprise, it's the end of the month and the end of the quarter. I expect later than usual nights, a long Friday, and working all weekend. It's absolutely fine, I am a boy without plans or people to share them with, so I might as well make some money, right? My attitude is one of malaise, not really concerned about anything, not dwelling on anything, just being and doing. I was quite content with that. So, I was probably in the wrong for upsetting that atmosphere with inappropriate words like, "good morning", and "how are you today". Foolish, quite foolish.

Somehow...(?), I purchased a free lecture on how I had no place dating when I have financial responsibilities to attend to, and that I was quite misguided in thinking that any single mom would be interested in me because I was a man with debt. If I was even attracted to a woman who measures love and emotion with a decimal point and a routing number, who the fuck are you to tell me how to live my life? That "debt" you keep referring to as mine is only mine because I was respectful enough and cared about you enough to assume it. It seemed at the time, heartless to say, "I supported you, the artist, for 10 years and you never had to work but now you can have some of this debt WE accumulated." It didn't seem to matter then that we were struggling, and if it did, there was no measure on anyone's part but my own to curb it. You never batted an eyelash about your treatments, your art supplies, your socializing needs. Not even the hundreds of dollars it's cost to mail your belongings. I haven't asked for anything in return, but I guess I hoped for as much as respect as I have given you to pursue the life you want, to be where you want, and with whom, and more importantly how we got here. I never once criticized you for the choices you made or how much hurt you put me through. So this new found reverence you've placed upon money, it's all yours. I have zero interest in living a life where value isn't an emotion it's a commodity. You don't get to bully this situation anymore, and if you want it gone, show me the $10000 necessary to make it disappear and I will evaporate right along with it. You provide no solutions or insight, just complaints and decisions about how I should live my life. Your future is on hold because of money? Well, I can only say I am sorry about the choices you've made for yourself, but I am not responsible for those decisions. That is the bed within which you chose to lie.

As it is that I apparently have such dominion over your life because I pay the bills, it seems like bad practice to be pissing me off, yeah? And if perhaps I find myself attracted to a single mom, maybe she is smart enough to decide whether or not she can be attracted to me?