What just happened?
We were cleaning up after dinner, stacking dishes in the sink. Out of dish soap, I said: “I guess we’ll just do them tomorrow.”
She started crying.
She’s going on about not being able to manage her life if she can’t even keep track of dish soap. I don’t know what to say, so I just keep re-stacking the dishes in the sink, idly rinsing the cutlery. Now she’s on something about always wearing sensible shoes, thinks she should try and be pretty more often. Don’t know how we got here from dish soap.
Still crying…
Still stacking and re-stacking the dishes, rinsing… who needs soap, these babies are practically clean already.
She sits down, talking about work, her promotion. Between little hiccups and sniffles: doesn’t know how she’s supposed to manage people she used to work along side, doesn’t know how to do it, in over her head.
I’ve run out of things to do with the hardly dirty dishes so I turn and lean against the sink. “Babe, you always freak out like this, and you always figure it out. You’ll find your way through.”
What just happened?
She’s crying again, crushing her tear soaked snotty face into my shoulder. Sobbing. A shaky breath, nuzzling my neck. Looks up red eyed, wet lashes. Kisses…
What just happened?
Man, chicks are nuts.
…and soft.
Valerie Roney 
Cool. Doing dishes in fiction. The low-tech way. And yay! More snot!
From yay to editing questions, skip if you like:
Do you mean soft as in vulnerable or soft as in squishy sexy?
I like the repitition of what just happened. I think you could understate/ take out “Don’t know how we got here from dish soap.”
Yay!
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I’m amazed at how effective you are at taking the point of view of a guy. You sound just like my oldest son when he was about 18. He drew a picture of a voluptuous woman and the caption read, “Girls are stupid. They’re just lucky that they look and smell pretty.”
Your story today is so reminiscent of how women and men talk with each other in a crisis. I’m just a little irritated that once again the female character is the hysterical one. Maybe the next time you might consider doing a a piece about how a man does an equivalent emotional response to the first poopy diaper, or the first time a child vomits on him or to the fact that he finds that his favourite sweater has been disposed of. It might prove to be a humorous parallel story.
Here’s to the world of Venus and Mars.
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Now Donna, if I’d written a story about a completely calm and rational woman doing dishes with her man it would have been dull as dirt.
Besides, I can only write what I know, and I know about having a meltdown about something trivial that isn’t about the trivial thing at all. I once got really mad and walked out on my man for humming. Actually, the fight ended with him throwing his pants at me on the street. See, guys are nuts too.
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Okay this may just be the best argument ever: http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/
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I honestly thought he was her brother until the kiss.
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Ewwwww….
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