Land of the Palmetto

For our vacation that summer, P and I had decided to take a trip down to South Carolina.

Mainly because I love it down there, and really wanted to share one of my favorite places with him.  (The year before, when we first started hanging out, he had taken me to Colorado. . .one of his favorite places.)

We agreed that he would get the plane tickets and I would cover the rest.

Seeing as I had two very good friends who lived down there, we didn’t have to worry about finding a place to stay.  Also because of my limited vacation time I had with my job, we really couldn’t stay that long.  So I divided our time up into about 2 days in Columbia with my one friend and then another 2 days in Charleston with my other friend.

I fucking LOVE Charleston by the way.

We found reasonable flights into Charlotte, NC and my friend in Columbia said that she would come out and pick us up and then take us back when the time came for us to go home.

I was super stoked.  Not only was I getting to go back to a place I loved, I was also getting to see two of the people I was most closest too.

This trip was important for me.  I was hoping that P would see how much he meant to me, and how important he was to me, especially if I would be introducing him to two of my kindred spirits.

I was also just looking to relax and soak up the sun and lounge about on the beaches, hoop a bit and reconnect.

It was very much needed.

Everything was set.

The morning that we were to leave for the south,  P was acting like the biggest asshole.  I don’t know what was up his ass, but he was just “off”.  That’s the only way I can explain it.  He was just. . . .Off.  Again, he was treating me like I was just some pal he could rag on.  He was just. . .I dunno.. . .rude in his interactions with me.   Being completely cold and curt.  Standoffish a bit?

He didn’t even kiss me good morning or anything.

I tried my very hardest to not take it to heart.  I mean, it was already 4 in the morning, and I didn’t want to spend the rest of the trip arguing or feeling hurt by his thoughtlessness, so I did what I typically did.  Shrugged it off and carried on best I could.

We got to the airport and parked in the long term parking lot.  There was an elevator that you were suppose to take up to a skyway that lead to the terminal.  For whatever reason, this elevator was out of service, and the door to the stairs was locked.

Since we parked on the ground floor, we figured we could just cut across the road in between long term parking and  short term parking and enter the terminal from there.

You would have thought there was a fire in his pants, the way he walked incredibly fast and at least a good 10ft ahead of me.

There was a slight incline between the garage and the road that was filled with rocks and such as part of the landscaping.  There was no way around this.  So we had to go down it.

P just marched right through it and I tried my best to keep up with him. . .all while wearing wedged sandals, and lugging a 30lb suitcase behind me.

The next thing I know, I feel my ankle twist, and down I went.  Hard.  I fell down the incline (as small as it was) and sat there stunned.  I wasn’t sure what the hell had just happened.

For a brief second I wanted to cry.  There was an intense pain, and huge purple knot forming on the side of my foot.  P, still a few ft ahead of me, turned around to see me sitting on the ground looking completely confused as to what just happened and what I should do.

He came back over to me, helped me up and kissed me on the head.  (the 1st real affectionate gesture of the day.)

I’ve rolled my ankle pretty bad once before.  Actually the night of a dress rehearsal.  I just iced it, threw on an ace bandage and hobbled about best I could.  I was good to go by opening night.

So In my head, I had just assumed that was what had happened.  I rolled my ankle pretty good.  Again.  I would just ice on the plane ride down and take it easy.  I should be good to go by the next morning by the latest.

I told him I was fine and tried to compose myself as best I could.

We walked on into the airport.  Him still going a bit to quick for me.

However, the more I walked on it, the more it really fucking hurt.

P could obviously see the amount of pain and discomfort I was, yet he still remained aloof and distant.  He didn’t offer to help me carry my suit case, or offer to find me a wheel chair.  He didn’t hold my hand.  Other than asking me one more time if I was ok, and getting me a drink after I asked him to, he showed no sign of concern in the world.

There was a total lack of any sensitivity on his part.

When we boarded the plane, he asked me if I was mad at him.

I told him no, and then he had the nerve to say to me “Then quit being a dick.”

Um?  Really???  I just broke my foot trying to keep up with your dumb ass, and I am in a lot of pain.  Sorry if my mood had been dampened, and I wasn’t talking much and that you have now been inconvenienced.

It wasn’t like I was making a big scene about this either.

If the situation had been reversed I would have totally understood why he wouldn’t have been in a chipper mood.

The whole plane ride he ignored me, and once we landed in Charlotte, he didn’t seem to care to help in anyway.  I hobbled all the way to the baggage claim, where he finally stepped in and grabbed my bag for me.

My friend took one look at my foot and announced she was taking me directly to the ER once we arrived in Columbia.  Once I got there, they confirmed that I did indeed fracture the side of my foot and that I would have to stay off it and get around using crutches.

What a way to start a vacation.  I was so incredibly upset.  I felt like I had ruined everything.  You would have thought that this would be where P would have stepped in and soothed me, letting me know that everything would be ok, and we would make the best of it.  But he didn’t.  Not really. I mean, he told me that It was ok.  But there was barely any emotional support from him.  It was like he was a stranger I just met off the street doing me a favor. . . his good deed for the day.

I was very confused by his actions.  On one hand, it wasn’t like he totally didn’t give a shit.  Yet on the other hand, he certainly wasn’t providing the support someone who was suppose to be my boyfriend and declared was in love with me.  I mean if you genuinely cared about someone, I think one would have acted a bit more compassionately.

The time spent in Columbia was very frustrating because it was like we couldn’t really do anything or go anywhere.  We were pretty much stuck at my friend’s house with her 4 kids.

At night, it would be I cuddling up to P for comfort, for he laid way across the other side of the room.  He didn’t offer to help me with anything (not that I would have let him. . .but still, the gesture would have been nice.)

In fact when we got down to Charleston and stayed with my other friend, It was that friend who was more concerned about helping me get up and down the stairs, opening doors for me, waiting up for me as I hobbled along.

Once again, It was I who had to initiate any intimacy.

I was so incredibly frustrated with the whole situation.  I wasn’t able to do any of t he things I had hoped to do.  It wasn’t like I could crutch around the beach.  My friend in Charleston was gracious enough to drive us around as we toured the city in the car.

We took a Ferry over to Ft Sumter, which proved to be tiring for me, because it was like a mile walk down the pier to crutch along.  Once inside the fort, I just sat on a bench while the boys went and looked around.

We did a Haunted Carriage ride tour, where my friend hoisted me up into a carriage and then we were shown all the supposed haunted places around downtown Charleston.

By the second day of being in Charleston, I just said fuck it to the crutches and hobbled along with out them.  I found if I walked a certain way, keeping my weight off my entire foot, I could get around ok.  Though I am sure it didn’t help with the healing.

All in all. . .it was a real shitty trip.  And it makes me sad, because of how much I love that town and how I wasn’t able to take full advantage of the situation.

It also makes me sad when I think of P’s attitude towards me.  I am not saying he needed to fawn all over me, carrying me on his back and chew my food for me,  but a gesture in the way of recognizing that not only was it a bummer for him, it was a bummer for US.

Maybe I am naïve in thinking or feeling this way.  Maybe I am coming off as though I feel that when in a relationship people should be co-dependent on one another.

That’s not what I am saying at all.  I guess what I am trying to get at, is that there should be a level of respect and care.  A level of want.  Of wanting to help your mate.  Of wanting to soothe and calm your mate in times of distress.  Of taking their hand and patting the top of it and letting them know that hey. . . we are in this together, and we will make the best of it.  We will get through this.

We got this.

Maybe it’s just not how things work in the real world.  I dunno.

Maybe I just expect too much.


~ by spanglebaby52 on June 21, 2013.

2 Responses to “Land of the Palmetto”

  1. No you haven’t got it all wrong – he has and you need to try and make him understand. Tell him how you feel.

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