I’ve never called a lover by the wrong name on purpose. There’ve been a few role playing adventures where different names were employed to spike the fantasy a bit, but never in error. Not once. And I’ve never been called by the wrong name either, so that feels good too.
Unfortunately I can’t feel the same sense of accomplishment in regards to fighting with one, or rather, a prior one. Oh look, my Imaginary Freud just pulled up a chair. Quick aside- Ever since I had to read his Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality for class last week, this uptight motherfucker has been prowling around the parameters of my conscious. I’m referring to him now as my Imaginary Freud.
Ok, so this just happened in speaking with the Ex. Another aside, the boys’ father will always be the capital ˜E’ Ex. Freud just lit his pipe, seems like he’s settling in. Fuck. Anyway the Ex is having a hard time, and boo-hoo for him, but we have logistics to figure out. So in the course of our conversation I am trying to stay on the topic of kids and resources just as he is trying to steer us into more intimate territory. This man is so frustrating. So aggravating. And we’re in this for the long haul together. Unless the kids get as sick of him as I did, but that would be a whole different kind of tragedy. Finally I got so pissed off, I snarled for him to knock it off¦ and then I called him by the wrong name. Oops. I’ve never done that before. “Who? He sounds a little like Scooby Doo. Ugh. Do I explain? Do I apologize? Nah. Fuck him. I press on. Freud is also writing this down, by the way.
The Ex, of course is pulling out all the stops to get me to open up to him, for me to tell him how I’m feeling, what’s going on in my love life. This time when I tell him to fuck off, it’s none of your business, I call him by a different man’s name. Yup, two for two. Now the Ex is super curious: “Who is that? Damnit Damnit Damnit. Nope, not gonna give in. Not gonna feel apologetic. Not gonna look closely at this right now; especially not with the Ex still on the phone. Freud is actually snickering at me now, he is such a prick.
“Health Insurance! We’re talking about health insurance¦ and out comes the third wrong name. Wow. Did I just call my Ex the names of the last three lovers that I’ve really cared for? Really? How is that even possible? I know you know, Freud, but you’re an asshat and I don’t want to believe you. He had started to interrupt, clearing his throat in that weird Victorian manner.
“Ok, I know that one! the Ex says. Now he is pissed. “You’re supposed to be calling the new men by my name! Not the other way around! And Freud agrees with him, of course.
A hugely loud very audible “psh! erupts from me before I can censor myself. Fuck it. Might as well let it out. “Um, no. That is not how it’s supposed to go. I’m supposed to deal with my shit as it comes, not leave situations unresolved and be fully present and engaged with the person I am speaking with, even you. We are so resolved there is nothing left for me to repress. You are so totally and completely a non issue, you’ve become the stand in for the lovers I actually want to be fighting with. This man really should thank me and hate me all at the same time. Wow, Freud just smiled. It looks uncomfortable.
“You’re so crazy, he tells me. I can tell by the sound of his voice he is shaking his head and smiling. “Nobody has that much control. Even steel traps misfire, Airial. Hmph. That makes me pause. Then I remember that he started calling his wife “Babe as soon as they started dating because he was continuously calling her by name; which also starts with an A. He doesn’t know that I know though, it was his sister who told me.
“Maybe. But if that’s the case, and you want to be called by the right name, then stop pissing me off. And then I make sure to call him by his name before I hang up. Hah! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Sigmund.