Cost of doing business and bankruptcy

I was lying in the middle of Azerbaijan’s double bed, she sat perpendicular to my body, we were talking about a DVD I brought over. At the drop of a hat and from 0 to 60, Azerbaijan started to yell about how I am in the middle of the bed, or more accurately, how I am “always” in the middle of the bed. I knew where this was going, it only goes to one place. I tried appeasement but the chain reaction to WW3 had already been set in motion. To her, any slight infraction marks a microcosmic gesture that indicates a greater flaw in one’s unchangeable nature. Accordingly, she rattled off her fight catch phrases (you can set your watch by them) “You will never change”, “You’re as pathetic as my step father,” “we just don’t get along,” and finally (and this time she means it) “it’s over”. The change from pillow talk to full blown bitch happened (and happens) so fast that it could make your head spin in a exorcist like fashion.
I walked out, thinking to myself that this was the last straw. I love Azerbaijan, I adore her, she is 80% of my dream girl. Just, that 20% is pure cancer and everything I gave up in high school romances. I walked out, the elements stung my exposed cheeks, my resentment grew. I told myself “This is ridiculous; I didn’t do anything to deserve this (this time…), let the next guy deal with this shit. Somehow I knew the next guy would put up with the good and leave at the first (second, or third) sign of trouble… maybe I should have. At some point the sweet juice just isn’t worth the strenuous squeeze.
Admittedly, I had put my cell phone in my glove so that I could feel it vibrate if she called. I wanted her to. My commitment to saying goodbye was growing, but I still wanted her to call and take everything back. I still wanted to be her boyfriend. A call shook my hand and found its way to my ear. She was sorry. She would never say “lets stay together” but its what we both walked away with.
The night passed with introspective thoughts of; traveling to the UK, starting businesses, and redefining my attitudes towards open relationships. She called, 1:40AM. She disarmed me with sweetness and affection (twice in a weekend… it must me a record). She said that she sometimes forgets how important I am to her. That she misses me, and how she wishes I was there with her now. My heart melted. This is the girl that keeps me in a continual mode of infatuation.
The juxtaposition between bitter and sweet made the sweet seem that much sweeter. Sweet Azerbaijan is so easy to love that it comes naturally and without effort or thought. I can’t continue to put up with the bitter to get to the sweet, however. I have to understand that there must be a limit to how much I put up with. I can’t spend my life catering to the wimps of an irrational romance. If someone stubbornly keeps getting upset, being negative, and finding faults in me… I have to let that go. I don’t want to, I hope I won’t have to, but I am not going to put up with this for much longer. Sometimes quitting is more sensible than holding out.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1LgvC8G0eY