Chloe Caldwell | Longreads | December 2017 | 26 minutes (6,433 words)
The first outburst was about my landlady; the outbursts are always about a woman. My landlady had sent me a text message with a couple of aggressive exclamation points and capitalizations referring to a misunderstanding over a National Grid bill, and I ended up enraged and screaming for roughly forty-five minutes. My partner was at the ocean on Fire Island, completely blissed out. He’d been swimming and laughing in the waves of the ocean, he later told me. Then I called. Our conversation:
“I just want you to agree with me that she’s a bitch,” I said.
“I am agreeing with you,” he replied.
“No, you’re appeasing me.”
This went on and escalated for fifteen minutes until:
“Jesus Christ, Chloe, what does your heart need?”
“I need you to agree with me.”
“I am agreeing with you. “
“No you aren’t, not wholeheartedly.”
It didn’t stop there. After we got off the phone I had to bring it back up over text, and I had to bring it up the day after that, too. I brought it up again and again, until I got my period, and began bleeding, and that’s when I could see the humor.