I have a serious fear of suffocation.  And it’s not limited to physical trauma.

This morning I awoke with the distinct feeling that someone or something (more likely the first) was sucking my life force.

I let Uncle K stay over last night and was therefore subjected to a toxic dose of clinginess.  Four nights and five days in San Francisco with this person may drive me to the brink of insanity.  The incentive of flying first class and lounging around in a four hundred dollar a night suite is slowly dissipating and metamorphosing into agony.

I’ve written in depth on my relationship with this person numerous times.  To sum it up, he’s the kind of person you want to slap upside the head and knock some sense in to. He could be reading this, or maybe not, but I’m about to throw in the towel – after eight years! – and concede that his bad qualities outweigh the good.  It’s gone beyond a mere “annoyance.”  And frankly, I’m tired of walking on eggshells.

This must be how married people feel at times.  So many things that need to be said, left unspoken and swept under the carpet.  How many occasions must it be reiterated that communication is the key element to a successful relationship?  I am a firm believer in talking out your feelings and it’s eating me up that I am letting myself be held captive by a person who is passive aggressive, needy and fragile!  How do you give constructive criticism to someone who runs at the first sign of confrontation or just doesn’t listen?

I am also held in bondage by the fat checks he throws at me.  I’ve never been a greedy person but I’m working my way well into it.  Money is not the most important motivating factor in my life – freedom is – but lately I’ve been so worried about not having enough to stand on.  I’m far from broke yet it never seems like enough.  Besides, doesn’t money buy freedom?

I’m positive that it is my Asian work ethic that is coming into play.  “Make hay while the sun is shining” is a simple yet accurate summation of the way I feel.  That goes for his accommodating wallet.  And since I’m young and attractive, it’s hard to turn down living the good life.  You must understand that I have strived to be honest with this person, sometimes to the point of cruelty.  But he won’t let me go.  He weasels his way back into my life and since I’m prone to forgiveness I give him the go ahead with two thumbs up.

Perhaps I’m feeling guilty for nothing.  A friend of mine pointed out that he is the one willng to overlook any negatives in our relationship because of his need to own me as a trophy wife.  I don’t question whether or not his feelings run deep, I want to know why you’d want someone who doesn’t want you in the way you want them.  Unless you are a fucking masochist.

I think it’s a huge wake up call when someone tells you they want to keep your relationship casual and they miss the “old days when it was more business-like, too.”  Our relationship was never supposed to go this far.  When I met him, I made it clear that I wasn’t interested in a serious complication.

It seems like nothing else can be said and done at this point.  The lines of communication are frayed but I must make a last attempt at establishing some boundaries if we are to go on holiday together.  Here are a few:

For starters, do not say you love me.  I have asked you several times to refrain from any overzealous exclamations of affection.  It doesn’t move me, it irritates me and makes me wonder if you ever listen to me.  Also, it puts me in the uncomfortable position of questioning whether I should say it back.  If I do, you’ll take it for more than it’s worth – if I don’t, there’s that awkward five second pause that embarrasses the both of us.  If I say what I usually say – “That’s nice” – it makes me look like a cold hearted bitch.  Ironically, I cannot be emotionally insincere.  I could play the game to get whatever I want but I’m just not up for pulling along some guy’s heartstrings without laying all the cards face open in the deck.

Next down the list – give me some space.  Please, just let me have some space to read the paper while you meander about doing what you need to do.  If you don’t have something to do, create a diversion as long as it gives me an hour or two of breathing room.  But for God’s sake, stop making me the center of your universe.  I don’t look foward to seeing you, I look foward to getting away from you!

Once we settle in for the evening, don’t ask me in the middle of the night if I am ok when I get up to use the bathroom.  There is no need for you to have a conversation with me at three am.  Unless you hear me slip on the floor or fall in the tub or pull an Elvis on the toilet, there is no need to communicate at an ungodly hour.  You are showing me that not only are you consumed with me during the day, you’re up my ass at night, too.  No woman likes an obsessive freak.

And, if you snore, do not get offended if I decide to sleep in the next room.  Honestly, your snoring is over the top!   It is hard to tolerate – period.  Beauty sleep is essential or else I cannot function throughout the day.  Understand that I need at least seven hours of quiet time (add a few more if I’ve been partying).

Since we’re on the subject of bedroom etiquette, I’d like to request that you stop pinning me to the mattress when I am roaring to go.  I have a routine just like you do and my time is valuable.  Just because you are off work, doesn’t mean I have nothing to do.  Oh, and don’t face me to cuddle and talk before you’ve had a chance to brush your teeth unless you pop some gum in your mouth.  Your breath reeks of rotten eggs and decaying food since you dislike flossing your teeth.  I might consider letting you go down on me if you need to freshen up your mouth but that’s about it. 

And last – please consider buying a pair of boxer shorts to sleep in. This nightshirt without underwear thing is uber creepy.  I feel like I’m in bed with a little kid and I don’t like the outline of your wee wee pressed hard against my back.  Grown men do not sleep in nightshirts sans undies, ok?

I confess, this is only scratching the surface.  Whether I’ll write this in an email or handle it over the phone is yet to be seen.  Who knows, he may have read it here first and is already in the process of cancelling our trip.  But you know what? I really don’t care.

If you can’t respect honesty, I can’t hang.