“Why do you always treat me like shit?”
“Because it’s so fucking easy to piss you off. All I have to do is not play into your little schemes.”
“What do you mean? These aren’t schemes! I’m asking you questions because I’m trying to get to the root of the problem!”
“What problem? I don’t have a problem.”
We have a problem. A few, actually. And one of them is that you treat me like shit.”
“If I treat you like shit, then how do you treat me?”
“I dunno. Nicely! When you want something, I get it, when you feel bad, I’m there for you.”
“Yeah, you know, maybe you’re making it too easy.”
“Making what too easy?”
“Making it too easy for me to walk all over you. I want someone I can play emotional ping-pong with. Not someone who fucking worships me.”
“I do not fucking worship you! Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Then what do you call it when you wait on me hand and foot, call me every four hours, buy me shit all the time?”
“Genuinely caring about a person, maybe!? Being involved in a relationship!? Geez! If you want me to pull back a bit on the affection, just fucking say so.”
“...You’re not going to cry now, are you?”
“Maybe, why? Was that your plan this whole time? Getting me to cry?”
“God, you’re ridiculous! Shut the fuck up!”
“You know, you’re really sexy when you’re upset.”
“Oh, right. So we’re going to have sex and everything’s going to be fine and fucking dandy. Great.”
“...What is it that you want?”
“I want you to want me to love you.”
“You mean you want me to act like I care?”
“No. I want you to appreciate the fact that I have feelings for you, feelings that I can’t stop having, feelings that I’ve never let myself give into for anybody else, and I want you to show me that you feel something back. If you do at all.”
“You honestly believe that there’s a possibility that I’ve been pulling your chain all this time, and I don’t really love you?”
“I don’t want to admit it to myself but...”
“Are you kidding me? Last week I walked five miles in the snow to come say hi. A week before that I stopped going on facebook to prove to you I wasn’t secretly flirting with anybody. And Thursday, did you fucking forget Thursday?”
“What? What happened Thursday?”
“I spent fifty dollars of my hard-earned money to give you a nice dinner and a decent nightcap after you had ‘the worst day of your life’. Then, I took the time to walk your drunk ass home, a walk that, during which, you tried to pick a fight with a gang member, made out with a complete stranger, and yelled at me for an hour straight for saying 'maybe you're too drunk'.”
“Yeah, but I mean you’ve walked a complete stranger home drunk before.”
“Yeah, but I’d willingly do it again next Thursday with you.”
“Okay. Take your pants off. We’re having sex.”


1 comment:

    (don't go to my blog. i haven't started it yet)