The Camarillo Gig

Brandon has a gig this weekend as this theme park in Camarillo, about an hour or so away from here. Since the time I first heard about the gig, I've really been looking forward to going. This is one of those things that I would most definitely go to even if I weren't going out with Brandon or anyone from the bands scheduled to play. And I assumed he had every intention of bringing me with him, because a) he hasn't been able to spend that much time with me lately due to their hectic recording schedule; b) it falls on a Saturday; and c) for an out-of-town gig, it wasn't that far away.

A few weeks before the gig, Brandon and I get around to discussing it over the phone. He asks me if I'm going and I immediately, a little incredulously, say yes.

"The problem with having a lot of people in your band and management team is that you don't fit in the van," he says.

I had no idea why he just said that. To me, he was stating such an unbelievably obvious fact that I was genuinely confused for a moment there. Then it dawned on me -- he's trying to discourage me from going to their gig. Again.

"But I was planning to take my car and go there with Jayjay and the others," I calmly explained. "My driver will bring us."

"But it's so far, baby!"

"No, it's not. I go to Camarillo all the time to visit my grandparents, remember? And their house is much further from here than Camarillo Park."

"So it's okay with your driver?"

Um, we kinda pay him to take us places, so whaddaya think? "Of course."

"Okay. I'll see first what's up with the car situation," he tells me. "Then we can talk about it again some other time, okay?"

Does he think I'm some kind of helpless, dependent, freeloader girlfriend? That I can't competently get anywhere without him?

I didn't want to fight, so I backed down and said okay. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I should've voiced my disappointment right then. But I was just too terrified of him getting angry with me. I was willing to do anything to avoid the pain, worry and depression I knew I would go through if he got mad at me again. The last time, it lasted for three days. Three days! That all-too familiar feeling of heartdrain nearly drove me mad.

So, despite my complete and utter frustration, I let it go for the time being.