He was not responding to her. She was no longer surprised, this was his way, distracted, quiet. It bothered her because she never knew if he was really listening. So she kept talking, sometimes changing the subject, changing her tone, a test of sorts to see if he would respond.
They hadn’t been married that long, and she thought she was aware of his personality and habits, but nearing thirty, single, and thought she was in love, she took the leap. All the while she thought it would be the way she dreamed, a fantasy realized. His seeming moodiness, distracted behavior, built up after a time. Trying her hardest to be what she thought he wanted, she was finally losing interest in pleasing him. Today after a brisk walk to the coffee shop, she tried to garner his attention with what she thought was an amusing story. His attention kept drifting to the passers by.
It was a cold, dreary morning. He would have liked to stay in bed. He barely listened to her speaking about some silliness at work. How she could chatter on about nothing used to amuse him. When he first met her, he was instantly attracted to her buoyancy, her effervescent personality. He mistakenly thought she was the answer. He had been a loner all of his early years. She came into his life at an unhappy moment, and he relished in her vivacious demeanor. Surely she would influence him in a positive manner. That’s when he deceived himself into believing it was love. She had taken him under her wing and tried to nurture him into a happier self. Now he was beginning to think it was all a mistake.
It was only a few short months before they both realized they weren’t being themselves. Trying to be what the other wanted grew tiresome and their first loving attraction adjusted into empathy. Their life together wasn’t a cultivated dream any longer.