Did it make any difference to me when I was informed that you're inanimate? Did it? I'm asking you.

No, I took it in stride. I'm always accommodating, I'm always the understanding one. It turns out you're not even a person and it rolls right off me. I had to find this out at a brunch? You couldn't tell me yourself? I was gripping the tablecloth, bunching it into insane folds in my lap where no one could see, and draining mimosas like I don't know what.

Don't, I don't want to hear it. It's my fault, I shouldn't be so surprised by this. You know what I hate most about it? I can't do anything but sit here and feel foolish. I knew you were quiet, kept your feelings to yourself. But I told myself, Hey, men are like that sometimes. Not up for a lot of chitchat. I figured you'd open up in time, be more talkative. And so what if you like to stay in? I'm something of a homebody myself, that's not so unusual. You seem to really like that one chair, it reminds me of grandpa the way you never leave it.

But now I feel your scorn, you scorn me for seeing only what I wanted to see. Even now, you won't even look at me. Look at me!

It's over and I feel I never even knew you. Look around, this could be anyone's apartment. Some books. I've read this one. I guess like most people you prefer his older ones. Does the newer work leave you unmoved? I find them rather inert but I think I like them better for some reason.

I'm just trying to make conversation! God, forget it. Just sit there, I don't care. Fuck now I'm crying. Shit.

You know I hate getting emotional but the least you could do is acknowledge that I'm sitting here in tears. Is that so difficult? Say something!