He called, again...

...to let me know about a dryer he found, and ask if I needed it.  I was surprised, so I just told him yes, but that I wouldn't be home until after 8pm tonight.  After we hung up I thought about it and called him back and asked him if we needed to talk.  He responded, "talk about what?"  I rolled my eyes and answered, "Did you read the email I sent you?"  He said that I'd sent him a real nasty email and that he'd only read the first paragraph of it.  I fought the urge to call him a dumb motherfucker and curse him out, and told him that he should read the whole thing.  He said, "well, maybe", and I said that there wasn't a maybe, and that those were my feelings in that email, and that the whole thing isn't nasty (and if he thinks that was nasty, he's done a good job of running from conflict his whole life), and that he should remember that if he's hurt reading those words, that I was even more hurt when I was writing them.

A part of me thinks that the fact that he knew he did something shitty to me and couldn't deal with the consequences of it like a mature adult by simply reading the feelings that I wrote down, says all I need to know about his maturity level.  But on the other hand, he has, in his roundabout way, acknowledged that he did something wrong.  He tends to apologize for things by doing something to make up for it, like a little kid.  "I'm not going to admit that I was wrong, but here's some candy so you'll like me again."  Except instead of candy, it's a dryer.

If nothing more comes out of this, at least I can stop line drying my clothes.

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