The clock ticks loudly on the wall filling in the silence of the calm between their fighting.
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I want you to WANT to listen to what I have to say… You never want-”
“I was on the phone, I asked you a yes or no question and it turned into a twenty minute story.”
“I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE CALLING SOMEONE, YOU ALWAYS TALK TO ME FROM TWO ROOMS OVER.”
“Okay, you can stop yelling now. You’re crazy.”
“I’m not crazy for wanting my DAMN BOYFRIEND to fucking care about what goes on in my life. If you didn’t want to hear about work you shouldn’t have asked me. Or you should have waited until you got off the phone to ask me so you could have at least PRETENDED TO LISTEN. Or is that too much to ask for?”
“I don’t understand why you’re being such a bitch, I asked why you didn’t go in earlier like you usually do and then you had to turn it into a novel. All I wanted was a short answer, I was calling the credit card company because I’m waiting for a refund because I had to return that-“
“So you don’t want to hear about my work story… which was NOT twenty minutes BY THE WAY. But now I have to hear about how you’re waiting for a refund? This relationship is a joke… IT ALWAYS HAS TO BE ABOUT YOU.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I just didn’t want to hear the damn story, get over it.”
“Well then I don’t want to hear your story either. You’re being a hypocrite. You tell me stuff all the time about your job or about this new phone and that new tablet and I honestly don’t really care that much but I listen because I know its important to you, why can’t you do the same?”
“You always complain about the same shit. I don’t do this and I should do that. You expect me to be perfect. You’re living a fucking fantasy in your head and you’re delusional if you think thats how relationships really are.”
“I don’t expect you to be perfect… I just want to feel like I matter to you. If you don’t want to hear a story once in a while I understand but I come home from a long day of work and I’m NEVER allowed to talk about anything. Any and everything I want to talk about isn’t important to you. Either that or I go on for ten minutes and when i’m done you look up from your phone and say ‘What?’”
“Then don’t talk to me when I’m reading something.”
“Wow, you are an entirely new bread of asshole. I’m sorry my existence is such an inconvenience for you that you can’t even take ten or twenty minutes out of the twenty-four hours in a day to listen to me speak. I’M FUCKING DONE WITH THIS.”
She stormed off to the bedroom and began crying. Hysterical sobs were escaping her like air being choked from her lungs. Mascara stained the pillow case but she didn’t even care anymore, she just wanted to be important. She wanted to come home at night and feel like her boyfriend loved her enough to just simply listen to her worries or funny anecdotes. She wanted to share her life with him, tell him what had happened while they were apart. It was unclear to her why he didn’t understand. Relationships are supposed to be about give and take. If he couldn’t even give something as easy as a listening ear then she didn’t understand why he was with her in the first place. “I don’t even matter enough that he wants to hear me talk,” she thought as she cried herself to sleep that night.