the art of communications

me: i hate it when you change the subject. it makes me feel like i can’t talk to you.

him: why can’t u just keep talking?

me: because i can’t. it’s not how conversations go.

him: i don’t know when something u say is important. i wait for u to continue and when u don’t, i assume ur done talking about it.

me: it makes me think ur not interested so you’ve moved on.

him: u didn’t tell me that’s how u felt last night. u just let me go on, and you had said you’d tell me.

me: i can’t tell you every time. that’s not how it works.

him: oh, but you said you would, no?

me: yeah, but i was wrong. i just don’t think i can do that. i can’t ask you to care if you don’t.

him: but i do. last night, i didn’t realize what you said was a problem and you wanted to keep talking about it.

me: well, i couldn’t keep talking about it, because you didn’t follow up.

him: ok, let’s talk about it right now.

me: it’s too late now — i mean, we can talk about it later, but right now, i don’t care about it. i want to figure this out.

him: ok.

SILENCE. MUSIC PLAYS IN THE 32ND FLOOR APARTMENT AS THE SUN MELLOWS OVER MANHATTAN OUTSIDE THE WINDOWS.

him: i feel like i don’t know u, because u don’t tell me.

me: what do you mean?

him: well, a lot of the times, you’re so quiet. and when i ask you questions, you sometimes give me short answers, and then i feel like you don’t want to talk about it, so i try to change the subject to distract you.

me: really?

him: yes.

me: did i talk more when we were friends?

him: yes.

me: well, it was different then. i didn’t have any expectations. i didn’t think as much.

him: what was it like with ur exes?

me: it was fine. with art, i talked all the time and still do, because he makes me talk. he engages with what i’m saying, asks me questions. you don’t.

him: oh, come on…

me: ok, well, what was it like with ur ex?

him: believe it or not, i was the quiet one. she talked all the time. when she had something to say, she just told me.

me: really?

him: yes.

me: well, im not like that. maybe because i’m 24. maybe if i was your age, i’d be more comfortable with myself. but im not there yet, and if you want this to work —

him: i KNOW. im not telling you to be anything else —

me: wait, i didn’t mean that to come off as an attack. i wasn’t attacking you, im just being honest … if you want this to work, then we’ll just have to deal with how i am. i do see what you mean, though, and i know i get like this. i get quiet when it gets more serious, and i do this with you too, because i think too much all the time. i think too much about what i should say to you, whether what i’ll say will sound stupid, what you will think …

him: oh, come on. i tell you stupid stuff all the time.

me: i know, and i like that, and i wish i could too. i really want to be that way. but you’ll have to help me. you’ll have to ask me questions, otherwise i’ll never get there.

him: i’ve never asked a person so many questions before.

me: did you never have a quiet friend?

him: no, not someone i dated at least.

me: well, now you do. there you go, this will make you a better man.

him: (LAUGHS.) i like you.

me: i like you too. im sorry it’s so hard.

him: im sorry too.

(HUG.)

me: i think we need to work on this together. i thought it was just your fault earlier, but now i think we both need to try.

him: me too.

(HUG.)

me: (SIGHS.) we’ve work to do.

him: that’s why i said it might not work before.

me: ugh, i hate it when you talk like that. why can’t you just be optimistic. if you don’t think it’s gonna work, then why are we even talking?

him: hey, i didn’t say it isn’t going to, i said it might not.

me: yeah, which is the same thing.

him: no, it’s not.

me: ok how’s it ANY different?

him: because it means it MIGHT work … or it might not. i still want it to work and hope it will.

me: well, then why can’t u just focus on the positive? how can hope become real without positivity?

him: well, im not pessimistic, just realistic.

me: fine.

(PAUSE.)

me: do you think im too idealistic?

him: sometimes.

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About tali2

I am a recent grad of the wonderful English major. Though I don't regret studying English one bit, I realize why my teachers, parents, friends, and imaginary mentors warned me against it: Because it leads you nowhere. But it did give me great writing skills which I hope to continue honing in this blog as I chronicle the tribulations of the terrible job hunt in the terrible job market of NYC. And I hope that my blog reminds fellow unemployed recent grads that you are not alone, inspires some hope within us, while presenting a snapshot of our lives to others who do not share the same self-imposed troubles.
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