Well, That was Quick

So, it's turned for the worse. Surprise, sadly enough.
M and I are still getting along wonderfully, after a rocky start, but it seems that J's bedroom passions surpass my own too much to be reconciled.
Which sucks, truth told.

I've mentioned a divide, albeit not very clearly, between her and I, and I've been meaning to talk more about it, except that I've only had hints and ideas and most of those were fueled  by my own intuition (I would say suspicious nature, but it turned out they were right, so it was intuition.), and I've been trying to pretend it wasn't what it was, but simply enough-- she and I weren't meant to be.

Which is fine, I suppose, sometimes relationships turn out that way. The biggest problem I have with this is that I've gotten fairly attached to L, and M and I again have basically no issues. Took us a while to quit being all guarded, but now we're comfortable, and the more comfortable we got, the less comfortable J was with us.
She claims that it's just us having sex without her that bothers her, but I've very deliberately been holding back my displays of affection in front of her, for fear of bothering her. (The sick sad part of me wants to see if she'll be mad at that, too...)
My mother said that a lot of it might have something to do with not feeling like she's number one in his life. And I can completely see that, but he's a father (as he claims, above all else), and I know for certain that if I ever had to choose between a man and my child, I know my child would come first-- and I don't doubt at all that he's the same way; so her feeling this way is not my fault.

I've been giving them space for about a week, and then I finally asked J what I could do to make things less.... pear-shaped about us, and she finally expressed a very key point, I think, that is driving the wedge between us.

I'm not a very feminine person. And I say person, because to say non-feminine woman either makes you think butch, or a woman that only has three kinds of shampoo and ten pairs of shoes instead of twenty of each. If those two aren't the same thing.
I'm basically a stereotypical man with a vagina. If I can't smell me, I don't stink. I barely wash my hair, I keep it short so I don't have to, I do good to get dressed at all, if I can get away with it, my definition of "clean" is "doesn't stink" and I've upped the ante to "can't see any awful marks on it".
It makes perfect sense to me that, if she wants to date a woman, she wants to date a fairly femme woman. Or at least one that shaves and showers more than twice a week. I hate shaving, by the way. I refuse to, unless I'm guaranteed some action in the bedroom, and even then I whine about it. And I mean armpits, shaving, not just bikini area shaving.

But ultimately, I'm a very.... Let's say 'confusing' person in bed.
She doesn't like that. Neither do I, honestly, it makes life very bleeding difficult, because every prospect requires a stupid powerpoint presentation of how I work and why I work that way, and then I have to answer stupid questions, because trying to explain that I honestly land under what is called the "umbrella of asexuality" is horrible.

So I don't give her the reactions she wants when we're "playing". Not that she'd know, she's only tried once and gave up since then (cough, depression cough), but because she's only tried once, I've pretty much determined that I'm not sure she was ever aiming to play with me at all. I don't even remember this try, I assume she was still pregnant at the time, and I might well have been drunk or that tired or something.

I'm disappointed, though. I can't figure out how to fix her and I, and I honestly don't think she wants to fix us, and M does, but he has no dogs in that hunt, so to speak, and even if he did, J would shoot them all for trying to get into the hunt.
More and more, I've gotten the impression that she wants me the hell away from their relationship. Except that she's the one objecting to my moving out of the place we currently share.

This is ultimately financially reasoned. And childcare, also finances, but simplicity.
This amuses the hell out of me, at the same time as annoying me.
Because I, now that I've faced that this isn't working and almost definitely isn't going to, now want to run away screaming and crying and throwing things.
I cannot express my disappointment, sadness, or heartbreak. I don't expect to be able to.

I'll miss L the most.
When I start on this train of thought, though, of leaving, I start humming to distract myself, but I always wind up humming the lullabye I've been using for him, and that just makes it worse.

It's in French, from Wolf's Rain. I can't find a literal translation for it anymore, or maybe the sentence structure in French is that backwards or something, but I rather like it. "No matter how difficult, I'll dance the path with the wolves"

So. I guess that's it. Six months.
I'm not going to delete this blog, though I want to, because I'm hoping that someone else will read it and learn. I should have included more of the negative, but, eh. Such is life.

This is probably going to sound horrible.

 Hi.
I shouldn't be writing this late, and certainly not while I feel like I do, but I really want to get it off my chest.

J has been either subconsciously or consciously competing with me.
You can nearly hear her tallying up how M treats me versus her. What he tells her when he tells her, when we've had what kind of sex, whether he's cuddling me or whatever. Just. She does it. I know she's doing it, and it's making me upset and angry and hurt because even when he does tell her things before he tells me, it's usually just a matter of presence or how well he's able to articulate at the moment or who's there when he thinks it-- and that's when she's listening, anyway. There are times she gets mad that she's been left out of the loop when in fact she just wasn't paying attention when the loop was totally right there.

She got mad the week before last because M was having trouble with Mj, and when she called he told her he didn't want to talk about it, and when I asked via text rather than calling, he simply said Mj's name.
Both of these can be attributed to time factors, seeing as the trouble was his throwing a fit about not wanting to go and not getting in the car like a normal three-year-old, and I imagine being on the phone didn't help. That five minutes would have made the difference between the door and the car and actually being strapped in.

Today she quizzed me, I mean third freaking degree (or fourth or whatever number it is) about what he told me about some super complicated bullshit that's come up with his ex, just in case she'd been left out of some communication.

And got mad later today because she forgot something he'd said when she was in the goddamn room and she thought she'd been left out.

I do not know what she wants, but I am not competing. I have never been competing, and if it becomes a competition that is outside her head, I quit and I'm running away, because their relationship is first and foremost in my mind, and I know for damn sure that he treats us equally. If nothing else, he married her and running away with me would be a horrible idea because I kind of need them both to ground me because splitting my attentions has probably been the best thing for me.

 There is not only no competition, but most of the time, no one's deliberately leaving out anything, no one's deliberately not saying, no one is intentionally not telling anyone anything. If something gets unspoken, there are two people that know what's up and can correct this matter, if someone feels like asking.

But instead, she wants to make it about her and decide that M's deliberately not telling her and prefers to tell me instead. Why? I don't fucking know.
She thought he was deliberately not having sex with her, too. And deliberately not sitting on the couch with her.

I don't know how much of this I can attribute to her postpartum, but it's making me want to strangle her.

TV show J's been watching lately, a couple hadn't been having sex for a year and a half, and she said she didn't know what she'd do if they went a year and a half. I (rather bitterly) said that she'd blame me.
She asked me why I said this. I don't think she's noticed the accusatory manner. So I don't know what to do. Especially since I've been calling her on a lot of her bullshit lately, because she's got these habits she inherited straight from her mother like yelling at you for asking a question she thinks the answer's obvious (like whether her cell is connected to the wi-fi), or getting mad at us for asking a question at all.

There. Said it. No problems solved, but I figured it fell right into the "troubles of the relationship", probably more than anything else has. Part of why I decided to do this blog was specifically that, to talk about the troubles of the relationship, because I know anyone else in our situation might appreciate someone else's slice-of-life on the matter, know they're not alone. 'cos you're not. Jealousy is totally a thing, and an ungrounded one, and my anger in response to it is bitter and unfair.

I got a headache while we were shopping, yesterday, and I requested that we make the window-shopping in the baby section quick, because I was wishing I didn't have my left eye in, 'cos then the pressure would have somewhere to go, and she got mad at that, too. Stomped around and left us behind to go grab something real quick without saying a word.
And said that if we didn't want to go shopping, we should have said. Like I knew ahead of time I was going to want to take my eye out or something. Or wouldn't have said. 'cos I'll say. Oh boy, will I say. I did say. And she got mad.

I don't know what to do. She's making communication more and more unpleasant, and then getting mad at us for not communicating, and then refusing to talk to us because she thinks we're refusing to talk to her. I don't know what to do. I'm getting frustrated, now.

I'm also getting very deep impressions that she doesn't want me in the relationship. Or here at all. She can't really put me out, but I'm wondering if the desire to break up with me isn't just something that's part of the postpartum.
It's making me want out. M doesn't want me gone, but of course he doesn't. He's not competing with me in his head.

I could kill her for that. That's so unfair. That's so unfair, to make everything a fight that I don't want to participate in, that I don't even think she knows she's fighting, and she wins by default, every time, because if it EVER came to that, I forfeit and run away. Simple as that.

Thanks for listening.