For several days, after we talked, I tried to think about this, and I came up with some possibilities. Maybe I didn't talk enough. He likes to talk a lot and he likes other people to talk a lot. I'm not very talkative, or at least not in the way he probably likes. I have some good ideas from time to time, but not much information. I can talk for a long time only when it's about something boring. Maybe I talked too much about which food he should be eating. I worry about the way people eat and tell them what they should eat, which is a tiresome thing to do, something my ex-husband never liked either. Maybe I mentioned my ex-husband too often, so that he thought my ex-husband was still on my mind, which wasn't true. He might have been irritated by the fact that he couldn't kiss me in the street for fear of getting poked in the eye by my glasses—or maybe he didn't even like being with a woman who wore glasses, maybe he didn't like always having to look at my eyes through this blue-tinted glass. Or maybe he doesn't like people who write things on index cards, diet plans on little index cards and plot summaries on big index cards. I don't like it much myself, and I don't do it all the time. It's just a way I have of trying to get my life in order. But he might have come across some of those index cards.
Lydia Davis, « A Few Things Wrong With Me »
