Clubbing with a Ball of Stress

Mr. Aspi is a complete ball of stress and I am so tired of having to manage his feelings for him. And it really is like being with a child, but with the twist that his vices are totally adult. He came home today totally stressed out about one of his colleagues, but then proceeded to make everyone around focus on his problem. He didn’t even have sense enough to loosen up and enjoy Saturday night. In fact, it’s kind of pitiful when you look at it: His friend/house-mate had made this grand gesture to make a nice party atmosphere for us and all Mr. Aspi could do was sit there and sulk. Of course when anyone prompted him to say anything, he could only speak about his issue with his colleague, and even then he only spoke about it from the perspective of his frustrations.

I am so tired of this guy behaving like a selfish, self-absorbed animal. Even when I try to speak logically to him about these situations, he says that he can see my points, but never will he arrive at any sensible location on his own. He always has to drag any and everyone with him, and I am damn tired of being dragged around. It is so annoying that he repulses me. If I were to tell him any of this it would just become a situation of dealing with his self-pity, so I’d rather not bother.

A human ball of stress.

Tonight after we went clubbing Mr. Aspi claimed to have gone to the police and hospital after he could not find me at home. He had left early from the party, of course, and so was waiting at home with his problems- I guess waiting for me to come and solve them for him. And so I had nearly ten text messages and over 20 missed calls from him. The trouble is, I cannot get him to pay that much attention to me when I am actually in the room with him, so why should this out of sight concern be taken seriously. Sure, I know that he’s genuinely concerned, and earnestly worried. I am just tired of having to deal with some wired up guy all the time about one issue or another. It’s maddening. It not only feels unfair, but feels like I am dealing with a stupid child rather than an actual adult. He’s totally incapable of functioning when he is like this and supposedly I am the only one who can help him out of that scenario.

Then, of course, when I get home from clubbing/partying, he’s out front waiting, smoking, not with a friendly hello. He’s just relieved that his stress is over. Again, I am damn tired of taking care of him. It’s not just a thankless job, but it’s one that never seems to grow. He’s always talking about the progress he makes, but the reality of all this shit is that he’s a serious pain to be around. He’s an asshole who says asshole things.

The other day, for example, he told our Irish housemate, that the government should just annihilate the Irish terrorists. I believe that he suggested that they be shot or somehow violently eliminated from the scene just as Germany had done with its homegrown terrorists in the 70’s. Supposedly he was being provocative, but at a certain point it just becomes insensitive and somewhat filthy. Of course, he has this theory about how our housemate is not Irish, according to his calculations, but again you don’t really know if he’s being sarcastic or serious; it just ends up silencing everyone else who has to then change the subject or risk provoking Mr. Aspi to say even more horrible things. Frankly, I am tired of that, too. Who needs to be around an asshole who becomes needy and strange whenever he faces any dilemma. Who wants to be around that constantly? And again, it’s not like he pays that much attention to us while we’re around, only when he’s faced with the prospect of being alone.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s