Thanks for Listening

"You are NOT listening to me!" he yelled in anger.

"Yes I am babe" she reassured him, shaking her head knowing this was about to begin another 12-round argument between the two.

"Really? So what did I just say" he berated.

"Something about…"she paused, trying to recount his actual words. "And then, you said… well I do remember there was something about dinner." She offered in an uneasy tone. Turning back to the magazine she'd been reading, she flipped the page and admired a light purple cardigan being advertised.

"Thank you for that convincing argument" he remarked, clapping his hands sarcastically. Still angry that she wasn't giving him her full attention he continued, "You know what…I can't do this anymore." For months he'd hoped their conversation wouldn't have to come to this, but he knew this was beyond his breaking point.

The last five words jarring her from her magazine, she repeated "you can't do this anymore? What can't you do?"

"I can't keep coming home to an insensitive woman. You don't listen to a word I say, when you do even give me a hint of your attention, you exaggerate what I've said, and frankly, I'm tired of it. It's clear that you don't respect me or this relationship and I want out" he finished.

"All this over dinner?!" she exclaimed. Starting in on a tangent, defensively she began "Yes, I'm going to cook, I always cook. That's what kills me. You act like you're going to die, because there's still thirty minutes left on the food. Give me a break. I am not your slave, and you have the audacity to talk about respect!" she condemned.

"Wow" he concluded, the rest of his words being lost in thought. Shaking his head he began gathering his things.

"Exactly. 'Wow' is right. I've got some complaints of my own, but you know what, I put them to the side because I know you mean well. Do I listen to everything you say? No. I. Do. Not." She confessed slowly, "but that doesn't mean I don't respect you, that doesn't mean you aren't the apple of my eye. Sometimes you just talk about things that I don't care about. So yes, I'm guilty of looking at you and thinking about what I want to base the chicken in while you're talking. And there have been times when you've been talking about work, that I've zoned out and started thinking about what color fingernail polish I should replace with my current. We've all been guilty of that" she offered, "but when you say something important, I'm all ears".

Jason had long since quit packing things into his suitcase to stare incredulously at his very-soon-to-be-ex. "You know what?" he began, "You're a real asshole. Who says that? Fingernail polish and garlic lime seasoning are more important than my conversations with you?" he asked tossing his hands up in despair. "You're pathetic you know that! You're 36, no kids, never married, still wearing your hair in a childhood pageboy and you don't even have the decency to have a good personality. You're going to end up…alone, again, with a house full of cats, half your age, who climb in your hair and drink from the same glass as you. I was your last hope." He affirmed.

"Oh that is low!" she retaliated. "Pageboy?! This is a traditional bob!" she yelled in offense. "Maybe this breakup is a good thing, I don't know if I want to be with someone who doesn't know how to fix his own meals. Who whines like a three-month old child when dinner isn't ready. I'm not your psychologist, call her up! Get back on the couch, mister! For the record I have a brilliant personality" she screamed at the top of her lungs. "I have supported you, and loved you, and catered to your every need. I miss one conversation about dinner and now I'm the bad person? She asked "I caught the jest of what you were saying and if that's not good enough…screw you".

Giving an exasperated sigh, he headed for the door, turning around he said, "No that's not good enough for me. And for the record, I never said anything about dinner, I said my mother died at a diner this morning, but you're right, when I say something important you're all ears" he said letting the door slam behind him.