Why do I complicate things? Is it due to my unacknowledged fear of facing reality? Do I hide behind a façade of abstruse explanations and cleverly formulated rationalizations so that it appears as if I have a valid reason for behaving the way I do? Do I complicate matters to flabbergast other people (who usually have no idea in hell what I’m jabbering about anyway), make myself look all deep or purely to inject some entertainment value in my life?
Just got into a lengthy (read pointless) discussion with Him over the issue of cake, after which I completely pissed him off. While I won’t indulge in the gory details of our discussion, suffice to say that it wasn’t actually about cake. It was about the significance of cake.
It was hard to carry on such a conversation, especially when he wouldn’t keep quiet and kept interjecting with, “What are you talking about??” in a tone which first hinted of curiosity, then bewilderment, then incredulity, eventually morphing into impatience, sarcasm and finally, downright annoyance.
I cannot lie. I felt slight stirrings of satisfaction in me when I heard him starting to buckle under his gargantuan effort to stay sane while trying to understand my ramblings, be the bigger person and give into my ridiculous whims.
It’s strange. I feel like I’ve succeeded whenever I confuse and/or annoy somebody. Why does this seem to give me greater dissatisfaction than say, actually coming to a mutual compromise and chalking up some progress?
I know what he’s thinking right now. He’s thinking that I’ve gone completely nuts. He’s also wondering what in the world I mean by cake – is it a code for some other confectionary? He’s trying to figure out how to handle these vile mood swings of mine. He’s formulating a strategy for the next time I decide to go berserk on him. He’s thinking next time, when she gets like this again, I’m going to just ignore her until she starts to talk some sense ... or being a typical man, he’s probably wondering if he should have cake for dessert.