I’ll cry if I want to

Overheard as I cycled up Bridge Road to Glebe Point Road on my way home from work this evening just short of 11pm:

She [vehemently, to put it mildly]: It’s my birthday!  You organize it!  [Turning away from him with a face of thunder and then almost stepping under my wheels as she crossed the road to put it between them.]

He: [mumbling, indistinctly but propitiatorily.]

Sounds like it will be a great party.

5 Responses to “I’ll cry if I want to”

  1. Victor Says:

    Ah…the joy of modern relationships.

    • marcellous Says:

      Actually, what struck me was how traditional it was: an exercise of a feminine prerogative to expect tribute of a certain kind and to administer rebukes in a manner which, if by a man to a woman, would be considered extremely uncouth.

  2. Tatyana Says:

    Possible previous dialogue:

    He: ‘My parents and my mates would like to come too. Can you take care of the food? I’ll get the drinks.’

    She: (Furious that, yet again, he could not leave his family and mates out of this, yells…) ‘It’s my birthday …’

    Yes, not very modern at all.

    • marcellous Says:

      That’s possible, in which case my last comment wouldn’t really hold good re tributary expectations. That still leaves the fury expressed in public, albeit late at night on a relatively empty street (obviously, from the way she set out from the curb, she hadn’t noticed me).

  3. Tatyana Says:

    I got carried away by the dramatic possibilities of the exchange, and I completely disregarded the issues of public safety and noise control. I’m relieved there was no collision. She should have been more careful before stepping on the road. As for the noise, well, I don’t think I’d like being woken up by someone yelling in the street at night. Still, an occasional display of passion can brighten up our dull suburban streets.

    An absorbing urban vignette …

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