It's not your rug.
I sometimes wonder how I got into this situation with H. How did I eventually let my guard down so much that I daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, decadely permit myself to be regretful and confused?
I am deconstructing our conversations to find clues and here is one. This just happened:
Me: With a positive tone, "I like to stand on this rug"...(it is nubbly textured on stocking feet).
H: With an argumentative tone, "You can't stand on that rug. It isn't your rug."
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