The assignment I was supposed to ship out for has been delayed, so I'm at loose ends at the moment, which means that now, at 2:45am, instead of sleeping, I am sitting on my balcony drinking licorice tea out of my cat-shaped teapot while my brain is taking inventory and replaying all of the ways in which I have fucked up close relationships with others over the years.

Yes, the fun never stops.

Most recently, I have fucked up a long-standing relationship with an American poet friend of mine, who is well-established in the poetry world, and is paid to read their work in public, and also to attend workshops and conferences for young, budding poets.

When we were first becoming involved with one another, I told them that I would, at some point when it worked for the both of us, like to attend a conference with them and listen to them read, or workshop, etc...

The response was not good: "No. That part of my life is mine - if you come with me, then instead of focusing on my work, my focus will be divided between caring for you and trying to network properly. You cannot attend my work functions with me."

...

OK, I mean it makes sense on the surface, but YEEEOWTCH, you know? Like I'm not able to take care of myself at a conference, and that my presence would somehow fuck it up for this person? Owie.

That was about 12 years ago, and I remember it verbatim. My response to partial rejection like that is, and has been for coming up on 50 years now, to kind of wall myself off from the bit of that person's life that I've been rejected from.

This means that for 12 years now, I have not read any of this person's poetry, have given monosyllabic, grunting responses to attempts to discuss their work, and let it be generally known that no, that part of their life is theirs, and that I'm hurt by that, and let's instead explore other things so we can be happy with one another.

I know it's petty and immature. I've been working on that sort of thing, lately. Not as effectively as I'd like. :(

So about a week ago, my poet friend came to visit me here in Seoul and said: "Hey, now that you've got a little time off, how would you feel about spending a few days with me in New York City? The hosts of such and such conference are putting me up in a really nice place, and I think you'd enjoy it."

And instead of joy and anticipation, my first reaction was anger.

"Oh, so fucking NOW you want me to go with you? 12 motherfucking years it took you to come to the conclusion that I was enough of an adult to take care of myself during a conference and not fuck up your 'wa'? FUCK YOU."

And then, I walked out of their hotel room, foregoing the entire rest of the last day of their visit, and ignored their calls, and did not go to the airport to kiss them goodbye.

It was not my finest moment. Collection thereof.

And now, at 3am, I am up, drinking tea, weepy, hopeless for sleep. My poet friend is based in the States, but West Coast, and just got on their plane for New York. Without me.

We have not spoken since my outburst.

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This is not the first time I have done something like this, and quite frankly, I've never had a relationship recover from it.

It is also not the first time I've thought about why I do this, and thought to myself that I really need to stop. I have no real idea how, though, and now I think I'll probably never touch, or be touched by my poet friend again, and I'm in shambles over it.

WHY can't I stop doing this?