Did You Just Say That I Don't Listen?

* Black text = Jill; Red text = Jack *

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Jack has been upset with me lately. He claims I don't listen to a word he says. He got this (mistaken) idea because I may have asked him several times why he has a scar on his abdomen; I tell him I like his shoes and ask if they are they new even though apparently he's worn them around me many times before; and because I say things like "I'm sorry, were you talking again?" with regularity. I don't get how you take all that and add it up to "Jill doesn't listen to a word I say", but apparently that's what he's done. (Editor’s note: Jack had a few suggestions for improving this paragraph, but Jill wasn’t listening to any of his suggestions.) This is troubling for me. You see, I have always prided myself on being a good listener. (Please tell me you’re joking. That’s like Jeffrey Dahmer priding himself on always being a good nutritionist.)

The problem, I think, is not that I'm a bad listener - I think it's more that my memory is what you might call "lacking". (Actually, the problem is that you’re a bad listener. But you’re probably not listening to me right now anyway.) Well let me revise that - my memory is what you might call "selectively lacking". For example, if Jack were to tell me my ass looked "huge in those jeans", I can guarantee you I would never, ever, ever, ever forget that. But when he tells me about the time he had The Appendicitis, it takes a few times to sink in. You'd think I could just put 2 and 2 together (scar on right side of abdomen about the size of an appendix = he probably had appendicitis), but I also tend to open my mouth and yap before I really think anything through. "Heyyyy, what happened here? Why do you have a scar??" This is usually met with "Are you serious? You don't remember? I HAD MY APPENDIX OUT! DON'T YOU LISTEN TO ANYTHING I SAY?"

(The scar is what triggers your memory?!?! How about the STORY? My parents were up North and I was under the care of an irresponsible older brother? Said brother responded to my cries-for-help by accusing me of drinking a bottle of vodka and telling me that it was “normal to have an upset stomach”? Said brother later refused to bring me to the hospital to prove a point about the dangers of underage drinking? He then left me lifeless on my bathroom floor doing face-down snow angels in a pool of my own vomit? Is any of this ringing a bell? How about the part where the doctor who was performing my ultrasound started bulging his eyes in amazement when he saw how close my swollen appendix was to exploding?!?!?! How do you forget a story like that – especially after it’s been told to you a handful of times?) He gets kinda cranky, if we're being honest. (I get cranky when you forget about my near-death experience. You get cranky when I don’t notice which specific strands of your blonde hair were highlighted blonder.)

To remedy this situation, I have been trying extra hard lately to remember things that he says. He suggested carrying around a notebook, and while I considered that, I think it might be insulting (not to mention tedious) to write down everything he says as he says it. My suggestion was that he should just say much more interesting things, like "Jill, you are so beautiful!" and "Jill, you are like the sunshine in my world; without you, everything would be pure darkness." (Just to clarify…your suggestion is that I start lying?) Those things would be easy to remember, you know? In addition, I have decided that when I see him wearing shoes that I think are new, I'm going to keep my trap shut. This might get me in trouble at some point when he's actually wearing new ones and wants me to notice, but I'm willing to take my chances. (I will never, ever, ever “get cranky” if you fail to praise me for my fresh kicks. But if you ask me one more time about the scar on my abdomen…)

(By the way, your ass looks huge in those jeans.) [Now Jack is in trouble. BIG trouble.]