Fireworks on the Fourth

We were having a good lunch. Margaritas, Mexican food and a promise of the whole day ahead of us.

Liz came over this afternoon and we were going to have lunch, go grocery shopping, go back over to her house, introduce the dogs to each other and then grill for the rest of the evening. Sounds good, right?

As soon as she came over ... the minute she walked through the door, she was talking about Sam and his problems at The Washington Post. Then we went to lunch and the conversation changed to her job change, the people at the DMN, etc. etc. etc.

I had come to the realization that if Liz and I were to go forward, she couldn't change into the person she thinks I want her to be. So I told her a lunch that I wanted her to feel like she could talk about whatever was on her mind. And I realized that work and NAHJ were her passions. I'm also realizing that I'm not ... or she would be talking about us.

But things turned ugly on our way to Target.

She started telling me about her relationship with Margarita. The kissing ... the bicuriousity ... the awkwardness. And I really was just listening and asking questions. No anger. No jealousy. Just curiousity.

She said that she had never given me any reason not to trust her and I reminded her that she was still having sex with Pam when she told me it was over.

That's when the shit hit the fan.

Her voice started raising and she started poking her finger in my face. "you were still with Kate' etc. etc. etc. Yes, but I was contemplating breaking up with Kate because she was apparently breaking up with Pam. That is, until I found out she was still fucking her.

I exploded. I can't stand to be yelled at and more than that, can't stand for someone to fucking poke their finger in my face.

She took me back home. Haven't heard from her since. Don't care if I do. Yelling is what she's used to ... I don't respond to that kind of communication. And if that's what she wants, good luck to her.