She even brought up, seemingly at random, how I almost never sleep over at her place. Yeah. We've been dating 2 1/2 years, see, and typically after that time people move in together. But when I brought up that idea? Wish-wash wish-wash. If I have my own goddamn place, why the fuck shouldn't I sleep there on weekdays? PARTICULARLY when I wake up at 8:30 and she wakes up at 6:50? It's pragmatically idiotic. Whine all you goddamn well want about how it's important to you. You wanna know what's important to me? NOT GOING ON VACATION EVERY MOTHERFUCKING MONTH AND DRAINING MY GODDAMN SAVINGS.

I wanted to end it today. I've wanted to end it on several occasions because all she wants to do is spend money, more money, and more money on top of that. 'Money is a tension in our relationship'. Understatement. I don't want to buy new clothes. I don't want to go to random kitsche bullshit in Buttfuck, Wisconsin. I don't want to do plenty of shit because I'm content enough just being by myself, either writing, doing work, or screwing around on the interwebs.

I was a fool to ever mention the opportunity. Granted, it's only an extra 6 1/2 to 10 hours of work a week. And apparently I don't need to come over every day if I can't, so I can make up the lost time doing other stuff by pacing stuff out to every other day. That's probably best.

So because of opening my goddamn fool mouth, she suddenly latches onto the idea and gives me holy hell and hemorrhoids for it. Fucking shit. This was the last year, my dissertation year, where I get shit done. Instead, rather than Miss I-make-2.5-times-as-much-as-you helping out with extravagant vacations I don't care about one way or the other, I have to work more and potentially have it detract from my research--although, like I wrote, I figure I can take Tuesdays and Thursdays off and just go into the lab until late at night after class and office hours.

I can't believe this. 'You constantly complain that you don't have enough money, but it really bothers me that when an opportunity comes along, you don't take it because you don't want to work more.'

Well. Fucking duh. 19 grand a year is more than enough to suit MY needs. It's when I started dating a high maintenance, upper class mildly thoughtless woman that I suddenly needed to be making so much more.

And it's never good enough. I drive her everywhere. I wait around while she shops. I go with her on vacations, which I'm not getting into again. I spend every night at her place. And the list goes on. But when it comes to curtailing her runaway consumption to hide from her fucked up problems and bullshit? Guess who gets to bend over and take a carrot up the asshole for the team?

I hate complaining. God knows I hate bitching about stupid shit. But this is fucked up. I drink enough as it is, goddamnit.

Fuck. Well I might as well bite the dick, write back, and accept the position. At the least I can use it as an excuse to work a lot more instead of lazing around after 6pm like a normal person.

This whole long-term relationship thing is barely worth it, I swear.

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