I am losing this argument. She is talking so fast I can't get a word in. She accused me of not sharing my feelings. I shared my disgust at the Knicks draft pick. That doesn't count.
I wish I could call a time out to regroup. She is pacing around the kitchen, voice rising and falling, gesticulating. I just sit here trying to finish my coffee. Maybe I should rise to my full height, which is still two inches below her.
She went back about 32 months, citing instances of me shutting down. Women have freakish memories. She continues to cluster bomb me with logic and determination. I have lost this argument. Luckily The Bachelorette comes on in five minutes. Her favorite show. People gushing out their every thought and feeling.
If I spent time sharing, I'd have no time for Fantasy Football. Is that so hard to understand?
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