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June 10, 2001

The worst place, the absolute worst place to have an argument is in the car.  On the road.  When you are two hours outside of L.A., and can't get out.  

And it wasn't even like I had started it on purpose.  It was just a little joke.  Just a simple thing.  "Well, since Ashley's gone, you're gonna have to talk more."   How was I supposed to know that he'd blow up at that?  We'd had a good couple of days.  We traded off between talking and not talking.  It didn't look like he was brooding or anything.

But as soon as I say it, he shoots me this sideways look.  And lets out this hissing sigh.  And says, "Can't you just stop harping on the talking thing?"  Of course, there is the obvious joke itching to be made.  Well, let's talk about it.  But I don't make it. 

"Look, I don't talk, okay?" he says, "You know that by now.  Why can't you just let it go?" 

 

"Because it bothers me!  It bothers me greatly, and there's gotta be something we can do or work onů"  "Look, I can't just flip a switch and suddenly start yapping about everything like you do."  Like I WHAT?

And then it just went on and on from there.  He tries to say that I talk a lot and that's perfectly fine with him, so why can't it be perfectly fine with me that he doesn't talk.  After all, he doesn't expect me not to talk because he doesn't.  Why am I trying to change him, when I know this is the way he is? 

I'm stunned that he's this upset.  "So, your idea of a perfect relationship is one where nobody says anything."  "No, my idea of a perfect relationship is what we have."  "It's not perfect to me."  "What do you want me to do?  Have a quota?  Say two thousand words a day or something?"

I don't understand.  I know he's got thoughts and feelings and emotions.  What's the point of never talking?  What do you get out of it.