Again, again, again.

I ask a lot of questions. And they’re good questions. And you’ll answer, and I’ll contribute and we’ll explore the implications, and you’ll be tempted to keep talking, and you’ll be surprised that you’re sharing so much. And the nature of my questions and the extent of your answers will make you feel as if I find you especially interesting. And I might, but I probably don’t. I’m curious about everyone. And eventually, I’ll think I figured you out, and you’ll seem predictable, and regardless of whether or not that’s true, my curiosity will start to dwindle, but you’re used to me asking questions, and in our conversations, you’ve been conditioned to be lazy or self-indulgent; you never really ask anything. You made a lot of assumptions. And you thought I cared more than I did, and I’m sorry but not completely because you should know that people like to be known. And your self-indulgence is boring. And feeling like it was my responsibility to motivate all of our conversations was lonely. And I know it’s not fair, and I know I set you up for failure, and that’s the pattern and that’s how it goes. But I Just want to learn. So if the only time I’m being challenged is when I’m first figuring you out, then our relationship wasn’t going to work out anyway.


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