Ficly

Common Interests vs. Reality Television

Things aren’t really working out with us, are they?

What? Why would you say that?

We’re too different. You know? Opposites attract and all, but sometimes they just irritate the shit out of each other.

I think we get along okay, most of the time.

Last night we didn’t. This morning we didn’t. It’s like walking through a minefield. You never know when something is going to explode.

But I love you.

I love you too. I just don’t know if we can make this work.

You’re not even trying.

You’re Jersey Shore, soft rock and light jazz, hipster indoctrinated, and I’m the military channel, bluegrass and heavy metal, and a bit of a country boy. I thought our wide range of interests would allow us to relate to each other, but it’s just not happening.

I try to like the things you like.

No, you don’t.

I do, but you don’t even pretend to examine my interests.

I hate reality TV.

You don’t have to tell me about it every time I watch it.

True. You don’t exactly give me any love for my interests though.

View this story's 1 comments.