As if I needed more proof that my relative safety, hiding in plain sight, was the right choice.
Boyfriend spent the night with me. We went for a walk out to the beautiful point that overlooked the river. It's only April, so the world is still various shades of brown with snow here and there... but it was still wonderful. I love the outdoors. We brought home dinner, and I cooked while he drank. Why people drink Bud, I'll never understand. Anyway. This morning, while I'm getting ready to drag my ass to work (day 11 in a row), Boyfriend decides to snoop.
My room is truly a hovel, a little room covered from wall to wall with laundry, old bills and things even I'm not sure about. Needless to say, Boyfriend found no "dirt" on me. The night before, I'd had the foresight to dump a pile of clean laundry on top of my journal.
You might say we have trust issues.
Boyfriend checks my text messages, goes through my pictures, checks on me while I'm at work and seems to know where I am before I do. He'd love to get his mitts on my journal, I assume to "prove" I'm hiding things. And okay, so I'm hiding things. So I haven't told him "the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me god". I don't even believe in god. Hence the lowercase "g". I don't keep bad things from him. I just... bend the truth? He knows the basic, skeletal details of all the thinges I've done. I figure I do a pretty good job, keeping Boyfriend informed. He doesn't agree with me...
Hmmm.
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