A couple of weeks ago, I made up my mind that as soon as finals were over, I was going to kick the boyfriend out. Not that I wouldn’t love for him to go NOW, but I know that kicking him out will cause a really big, stressful scene, and I’d rather not have that at the end of the semester when I’m trying to get all my projects turned in and study for finals and such. I ended up trying to get him out before my self-imposed deadline, and it was disastrous.

The other day was horrible. It was a Thursday. I had C class that night, and the first part of my P class final exam the following morning. That afternoon I had a severely upset stomach. In between bouts in the bathroom, I spent the afternoon curled up in bed with one of my pets, feeling physically miserable and not studying.

Now, the boyfriend does not like having pets in the bed. Now, while I’ve had pets in my bed all of my life, I know and understand that this is not something that everybody does. The boyfriend is one of those people who is opposed to pets in the bed. So, I keep the pets out of the bed when he’s in it, and when I’m in the bed alone, I keep the pets on my side. I think that’s a pretty fair compromise.

Anyway, so there I was in bed, having really painful stomach cramps, holding the feline and trying not to cry. The boyfriend knew I was sick. He also knows that my pets are very important to me. Anyway, he came into the bedroom and ordered (!) me to get the animal out of the bed, and I told him no. He stormed out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. I fell asleep, holding my pet.

I woke up and had to leave to go to C class. He was sitting on the couch, drinking and playing video games. I was not feeling particularly friendly, but I said, “I’m going to C class” to which he replied, “I don’t care what you do.” I just picked up my things and walked out. I didn’t want to have a fight right before going to C class for my final review.

I came home from C class, and he was still drinking and still playing video games. I didn’t say anything, just microwaved something for dinner, and went into my study room to study for part 1 of my P exam. He cranked the volume up on the TV *and* put on headphones and began shouting the lyrics to bad rap songs. I couldn’t study at all because of the noise, but didn’t want to go out in the living room, so I just stayed locked inside the study room. Eventually he decided to go and buy more beer. Joy. As soon as he left, I locked the screen door and took my stuff into the bedroom and locked myself in. Of course, the “lock” on the screen door was easy for him to pry open and he was very angry when he came in… especially when he found that I’d locked myself inside the bedroom.

I could hear him out in the living room cussing and banging stuff around, and finally he said, “Are you going to come out here and talk to me, or are you going to stay in there and be an asshole?” Now that I think about this, remembering what a friend who’s been through a similar situation told me, that was probably the specific kind of statement to get me to come out of the bedroom… it really pissed me off. *I* was the asshole? Seriously? So I went storming out. I was so furious I was crying and shaking and shouting. He was going on and on about how he had only ever asked me for one thing, no pets in the bed, and how he just bends over backwards for me, and I just walk all over him, and won’t even do this one little thing, blah, blah, blah. I pointed out that he had been walking all over me for months, that he constantly tells me what to do and how to live and never does anything to support us financially, and all he does is drink and play video games, etc, etc. And then I told him (for the umpteenth time) that I didn’t love him and wanted him to move out, that I wanted to be single, to live alone, and to be able to have my animals in the bed whenever I wanted.

Of course, as soon as I brought kicking him out into the mix, he immediately changed his tune: he loved me so much, I was the best thing that ever happened to him, he couldn’t live without me, he would do anything to make me happy, blah, blah. I countered all of that with nice logical arguments for the longest time, sticking firm to my, “I don’t love you and I want you to move out mantra.” But he just kept at me and at me over and over and over… and it was getting later and later, and I knew I had part 1 of my P final at 8am the following morning, and meanwhile, I was hysterical, had a splitting headache and had not studied any. Finally I decided that I needed to go to bed, or else my P grade would suffer even more, so I just went to bed. He followed me to bed, but I made it clear that I was going to sleep and that there wasn’t going to be any cuddling or screwing around.

I had to take two Excedrin for my headache, and of course, Excedrin contains caffeine… so it took me FOREVER to fall asleep. Meanwhile, the boyfriend was out like a light within minutes. I finally fell asleep, but had to get up a handful of hours later to go take part one of the P exam. I thought I totally bombed it, considering how exhausted I was and how I hadn’t studied, although I got my grade back on it and it turns out I did pretty well. No idea how!

I decided that if the boyfriend wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, I would go along with that until after my last exam (part 2 of the P final, which is Wednesday at 8am), and then try again. The problem is that I don’t think he will go, no matter what I say.

I do not understand this behavior at all. I have been in two relationships in my life where I truly believed I was in love (maybe *I* was, the dude in each instance wasn’t, apparently). Both times when I was dumped, I was miserable. Hysterical. But I was miserable and hysterical because I knew it was over. If a guy tells me, “I don’t love you, I love X person,” or even a simple, “I’m sorry, I just don’t love you,” as painful as that is to hear, as soon as I have heard these things, I have accepted that the relationship is over. Both times this has happened to me I still had feelings for the guys involved, it wasn’t like I could just stop loving them… but I certainly didn’t just keep throwing myself at them, refusing to leave.

Anyway, I know from experience what will happen when I tell him to get out. I know because we’ve been over it and over it. My mom tells me, “Why don’t you tell him this or that or the other?” except that I have told him this, that *and* the other and he hasn’t left.

The only way (in this state, anyway) to get someone out of a property you own is to go to the Magistrate’s Court and file a notice of eviction. (We learned this when a guy my mom had been paying to work on one of her properties began squatting there and wouldn’t leave.) I think that the only way I can get him out is to first tell him that I want him to leave, and that if he doesn’t go voluntarily, *I* will leave, then file an eviction notice and get a restraining order… Then, if he doesn’t go voluntarily, actually leave and file the orders.

Sounds like a great plan… except there are two problems: Where do I go? and What do I do with my animals? These two problems are inextricably linked, since if I had no animals, I could go anywhere. Additionally, I have numerous things scheduled in the area over the upcoming that are very important, which I *must* do. As such, I can’t go too far from the city where I live. He knows where my mom lives and where her other two properties are, so it’s not like those would be secret locations. Plus, I have 16 animals at the house; 12 feline and 4 canine. One of the canines could stay with my mom. I could put the injured feline that is in my bathroom in my mom’s spare bathroom. Unfortunately, since my mother has something like 19 felines and 6 canines at her house, that’s as many as she could take. The others would either have to go with me or be left behind. I don’t think the boyfriend would do anything to the animals, although I know he wouldn’t feed them or clean up after them. Also, there are 3 in particular (one feline and two small canines) that I would be really concerned about leaving there without me to take care of them.

So that leaves me with the thought that I could go *somewhere* with the two small canines and the one feline, and get my mom to go over to the house to feed and clean the remaining critters. I literally couldn’t take the 3 animals to her house, as there really isn’t room for them, so that rules out her house. I don’t know that many people in the area, and none who could accept me and the 3 critters.

I had thought about campingat a nearby state park, which has electric hookups, showers and allows pets. I could stay in mom's van, plug in a space heater, and be fine, but it's $23 a day and I am poor. So then I thought that perhaps I could crate up the three beasts somehow and lock them in her office, and sleep over there, even though that would be very difficult and not a secret location… but…

So that’s where I am now. I’m back to thinking seriously about camping in my mom’s van with 2-3 canines and a feline. Suggestions?