What was that? I missed what you were saying. It was obscured by the fog of war. Were you trying to beat me by beating me down by complaining about my shortcomings?
“You’re crazy… no you’re insane!” you’re yelling as I try to tune in to what you’re saying. “You can’t be trusted to carry through with anything. You don’t speak. You won’t make dinner. You stay in the house. You can’t even get out of bed.”
I just sit here, not making eye contact. Letting you rage your selfish rage. Until… until… until…
“You’re bad in bed!! You have no skill! You can’t make me cum!” you shriek. “You don’t even give me a thrill!”
“You didn’t say that seven months ago, when you were my little whore!” I slash back. “We spent entire weekends between the sheets! Why do you still come around if I’m not what you want? There must be something here that draws you in.”
“Why don’t you go back to him? He has the lifestyle that you crave. And the apparent ability to handle all your needs.”
“Leave me alone with my thoughts. You’re not my girl anymore… If you ever were.”
“But I L…”
“NO! GET OUT OF HERE!.” I’m fuming at the suggestion! “I DON’T EVER WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE AGAIN!!”
Sheepishly, you grab you coat run down the stairs to the front door. There you pause like you have something to say.
“Leave your key on the table,” I say matter-of-factually. “After you leave, don’t come back.”
The door opened and closed.
A little while later I went down, retrieved the key and locked the door.