boy in a box

B is on travel for a day or two. she made a point of telling me she not only -couldn't- but -wouldn't- take the phone. translation: we -won't- talk while i'm away. i asked her if she'd call me anyway. i mean, pay phone? calling card from the room? what the fuck is the problem? another way for her to control me and us and this? i -could- call you, if i wanted to, but i won't. not because i can't, because i could find a way if i wanted to, but because -i say- i can't.

i couldn't figure out what the g-ddamned problem was. find a pay phone, use a calling card. this morning i figured it out.

i, and everything about/related to me, belong in a box. the box is her office, her work day.

she can't say hi to the person who supposedly means a lot to her? she'll call bf six times throughout the day and he'll call her six more. i get silence. no calls, no ims, no emails, no text messages. i get to wonder: is she having lunch with the clients right now or are they still working, getting ready to take them to lunch, are the meetings going well? guarantee you bf knows where they're having lunch, who's there, how the meetings are going, what she's wearing, what's the weather like, what kind of rental car are you driving, is J (from her office) with them, are any of them flirting with you, are you going to fuck them all? because he thinks she's fucking around, so she has to keep him placated. she knows i won't leave, i don't accuse her of anything (except settling for less than she wants). so i get silence. a day and a half away and when she gets back and i ask her about it she'll say it went fine. i don't even know for sure what fucking city she's in. he no doubt gave her shit about this short notice travel, accuses her of fucking around with everyone, will be checking up on her with phone calls at random times throughout the day, will demand, DEMAND that she call him at such and such a time (and she'll comply). i support her ( i think) - i tell her she should make the trip, should leave the office now coz it's late, should have a good weekend with him. i try not to pressure her, try to make sure that my ?discomfort? or whatever with her being gone doesn't add to her stress in anyway. close the box, put it in the closet, don't think about it until whenever. it'll be here when you get back. i'll be here.

to call me outside of work, like when she's on travel, would be to take me outside the box. and she can't do that. to meet me would be to take me out of the box. and she can't do that. to stop hiding her identity from me would be to take me out of the box. and she can't do that.

as she's said many times, she can justify having me in her (work) life. from the very beginning, she's said she needed to control this situation (her and i). so she's never given me any personal information. never given me a phone number, or a clear picture, or agreed to meet.

earlier on in our relationship, she started to loosen that a little. she carried a phone with her, all the time. she called when she commuted, on our evening night, on saturdays, when she went out alone on the weekends. sent me emails or ims from home.

then he found out. accused her of fucking around on him. and ever since, she's been reeling "us" in, putting us (well, me) more and more into a box - the work box. because she can justify that. she's not cheating, she's just talking to someone who knows her very well and whom she knows and cares about. but only at work. so there's really no "cheating". i'm just a -small- part of her day. her work day. and only her work day.

she keeps everything i've sent her in a box in her office. a physical box for the physical things. a metaphysical box for me. i think it gives her some comfort or security to know that if he's storming through the door she can just take a quick look around the office, pick up those two boxes, a short walk to the dumpster and *poof* i'm gone. all evidence of me is gone. her life is clean again. and she never cheated. if she were to let me out of the box, there might be all these messy little details laying around, stuff that she couldn't be sure she got "cleaned up" and tossed away, stuff that might turn up at an inopportune moment in the future and jeopardize her carefully constructed and controlled life.

to call me on the weekend would be letting me out beyond the box of her work day. to call me when she's on travel would be letting me out of the box. to call someone other than bf when she's away, or not at work, or on the weekend, would be that much closer to cheating. and she won't cheat on him. period.

to give me her name, or phone, or a picture of her smile, or to meet (even for frikking lunch) - all would be too close to cheating, to letting me out of the box.

she can't let me out of the box because then we become perilously close to "cheating". and she can't do that. because she's not a cheater. never was, never will be. it's not in her to do it. but she can justify me/us because i'm just during the workday. we haven't fucked. we've never met. i don't have personal information about her.

she finally admitted to me (and probably to herself for the first time) that a major reason she stays is because of money. she's not yet 30 yet she has and has accomplished more than 95% of people 50 years old. she has more success, more money, more toys, the house on the water, all of it. she has everything she thought she wanted.

and she can't give it up.

in some ways, i understand.

but my 18 years of additional life experience have taught me one thing: you can't buy happiness. sounds cliche, but very true. because she's so mature beyond her years, i'm a little surprised she hasn't figured this out yet. (i think she has, but just hasn't ?accepted? it.) when you're young(er) and acquiring your "things", each new thing (new house, new boat, new car, new vacation home, new whatever) seems like it'll bring some more happiness, some satisfaction, help fill the emptiness in an empty relationship. (if i don't think about how empty my relationship is, then it won't be that way). when you're older, you come to realize that you've built a beautiful mansion of pretty things, none of which satisfy you, none of which fill the empty spot in your heart and soul, none of which bring you the love and connection that a soulmate brings. the collection of love/companionship substitutes becomes an empty prison. you find yourself surrounded by all these -things-, none of which have any real meaning, no real value. it's the Club Fed of domestic relationships. country club living, all the nice things, but at the end of the day, you're still in prison. a prison built of your own hands, but a prison nonetheless. still locked away.

still alone.