A Spoiled Brat

Every time they stop talking, silence looms between them, gray and heavy as a cement wall.
-Nancy Huston
"The Mark of an Angel"

Twenty-five years ago today

December 22, 1985
Sunday

We woke up at 9:30AM or so to get ready for church at the Huntwood Baptist Church. Chad and I get along—for the most part. Sometimes I feel he’s a spoiled brat. If things are not done to his liking (or his way) he will pout are argue. It bugs me sometimes.

We left in my car to drive to Hayward. I’d have rather gone in his car but I made no qualms. His niece, Dawn, was dedicated at the Church. The Church was kind of nice and all Christmas-like. After the service we (that includes me, Chad and his family) met up at Carl’s Jr. for lunch. I sat between Chad and Narn with my knees pressed against each of their own respective knees. It was kind of nice. Narn’s a real charmer. I feel she’s quite a beauty, too.

Chad and I stayed at his parent’s home for a bit and munched on some goodies. We left for my place and changed into more comfortable clothes. I had to wait for Chad to use the bathroom (of which he does a lot). He takes forever while he’s doing ‘it’ in the bathroom.
I shouted, “Hurry up!”
He snapped back at me, “I don’t like to be rushed!”
Blah Blah Blah…
I didn’t argue. I kept silent.

While in the closet he turned the light on. I wasn’t thinking and I turned it off. I gave him a love tap on his butt cheek.
“Would you not do that?”
That enticed me to do it again. I wondered what he would do if I did it one more time. I figured I was just playing, so it didn’t matter. Well, it mattered. He hit me on my arm kind of hard! I walked away. He knew I was pissed-off.

Chad apologized. I fell for his sincerity and I apologized as well. We went to San Francisco and headed over to Carl Brook’s party. It was fun. Fellow co-workers Judy, Steph, and Margaret were there. Dale was there. Dale being there was beside the point. The food was pretty good. We mingled around and left by 7PM. We looked through some shops on Castro Street together. I didn’t appreciate Chad’s watchful eye amongst other men. I just ignored it…for the most part.


We had a happy, quaint ride home. Then Greg Manachevitz and Mike Miller kind of invited themselves over to my place. They met Chad and we sat around, listening to a tap of Greg on KYA-radio. We looked through some of my pictures and postcards. Greg and Mike left and Chad had a comment about Greg:
“He’s so obnoxious!”
“Yeah, I know.”
“I liked Mike though,” Chad said, “but it seems like he’s been hurt before or is searching or lagging in his life.”
“That’s true, too,” I replied, even though I thought Chad was being overly dramatic in his psychoanalysis.


Chad pissed me off when he said, “Please get off me!”
It was some sort of phrase like that. I gave him a piece of his own medicine.
I said, “Get OFF me!”
We did very little cuddling. I was fed up during our night. Everything’s got to be his way. He wants to call the shots. I do NOT have to abide by them. I don’t need Chad Glen. I’ve lived fine before I knew him. Yet, I don’t want to lose him—ever.
Tonight Chad asked, “If we ever break up—can I still run my fingers through your hair?”
That question is a bad sign. Why he is such an inconsiderate asshole when I touch him? He tells me ‘not to touch him’. When he touches me I allow it—no matter what (except for maybe in a public place). And now I gave him a piece of his own medicine tonight.
While in bed I abruptly stated, “Please take your leg off of me.”
I turned on my other side and tried to sleep. Of course, all the while I was hoping he’d caress me because I do love the guy a lot.

All life was a compromise.
-Patricia Highsmith
"The Boy Who Followed Ripley"