A story; addendum.
April 1, 2010 § 1 Comment
So, by request, here is the additional post about the bickering couple on the subway. To see what I’m referring to go here.
It was around one in the a.m. and I was in no mood to be listening to two people argue. But I’d be chased out of the last two subway cars, and was just too tired to move again. So I settled in and tried my best to ignore them.
This was no easy task.
The couple was the stereotypical Long Island/Staten Island New York couple. They were both well dressed, but in a very trashy, over the top way. As in, the clothes they were wearing were nice, but it wasn’t well put together. They looked like they had just come from a night club because they looked tired and haggard, and a little sweaty. And covered in body glitter. Holy body glitter batman.
I came in mid way through the argument. I tried not to listen but seeing as they were yelling, I didn’t really have a choice. As best as I can put together here’s what was going down. He was upset because he’d been unable to find this month’s credit card bill, and was pressuring her to tell him if she’d seen it. She kept denying it but he kept pushing–pushing in that way where it sounded like he totally knew where the bill was, but was waiting to see if she’d fess up.
Finally, he got fed up and whipped it out–which I thought was weird. I mean, you brought your credit card bill with you on a night out on the town? Were you planning on paying the bill during the dance breaks, or did you have this show-down with your lady prepared all along?
Up to this point she basically had not stopped talking. Even when he was talking she was talking. And it wasn’t always about the topic he was trying to address. She just talked and talked and talked. And she had this terribly shrill, piercing, nasally voice that made me wish I’d stayed back on the car with the old lady and her Gran Corona. But as soon as he pulled that bill out she went silent.
I wanted to ask him why he hadn’t just pulled that bill out earlier and saved the rest of us from needing to get our hearing checked, but I decided to stay out of it.
She got this look on her face that is a little hard to describe. At first, it seemed like she was busted, and knew she was busted and was ashamed, but then she got this look like she was really offended at him from busting her and spoiling her ruse, and then she looked angry like she was going to fight back, but then she had no idea what to say. And all these looks happened pretty much simultaneously.
Before he could say anything like, “What do you have to say for yourself?” or “How do you explain this?” or “Did you really think you could hide this $40,000 charge from me forever?” (note, I don’t know if it was a $40,000 bill, but the way he was acting it sure seemed like it), she was on the defensive. “I needed new boots for the party! And then I had to have a dress to match the shoes. And a purse. And a necklace. And matching earings. You said you wanted me to look nice! Really this is your fault!”
“My fault? Yeah I wanted you to look nice but I figured you’d wear one of the outfits you already own. You’ve got three closets full of dresses and shoes and other crap!”
“Yeah but those are all old, I wanted something new.”
“Old? First of all some of those things you’ve never even worn–”
“Look, I shouldn’t have to ask your permission to spend our money on thi–”
“You mean my money.”
This is the point where if this were a’90s sitcom the live studio audience would have gone, “Oooooooo” and laughed awkwardly.
“What?” he said, “You don’t have a job, you don’t bring in any income, how is it ‘our money’?”
“I think a man should provide for his woman. You should be giving me everything I want.”
This is the point I mentioned in my other post where she tried to get me involved. She looked right at me and said, “Right? I bet you provide for your woman.” I didn’t even respond–just went back to my newspaper. The guy next to me wasn’t so smart. He casually responded with, “Well, yeah a man should provide for his woman’s needs, but not necessarily her wants.”
Oh no he di’n’t.
I think, if she had been closer, and if her boyfriend/fiance/husband/whatever he wasn’t there to hold her back she would have walked over to that guy and slapped him across his poor, naive face.
She turned her rage and indignation on this poor fool, pretty much accusing him of being a misogynist and probably didn’t have any money to provide for anyone. He said he was just trying to help. She told him he was supposed to help her not her significant other. Poor guy. As soon as the train pulled in to 14th street he bailed. I’d be willing to bet that wasn’t the stop he wanted but he got off. He didn’t even move to another car–I guess he was a little worried she’d find him.
And so the argument continued. They went on like this for twenty more minutes. He would bring up a point and she would change the subject. She would make a point and he would shoot it down. At some point, I’m not really sure when (as I was trying to ignore them), the arguing stopped. Against my better judgment I looked up to see why they weren’t yelling at each other anymore. They were making out. Like full on, groping, face sucking, heavy petting, back of a ’67 Chevy, high school passion making out.
‘Well,’ I thought to myself, ‘at least they stopped yelling.’
“[Insert clever sign off phrase here]”