Enough about you, what about me?

Jack/Narrator: When people think you're dying, they really, really listen to you, instead of just...

Marla Singer: - instead of just waiting for their turn to speak?

Conversation, something that should be an opportunity for people to really connect with one another, seems to be, more often than not, yet another cause for frustration. Fight Club got it right—when you’re talking to most people, all they really care about is getting a word in. The problem is compounded if you happen to be on the quiet and/or polite side: people just assume you’ve got nothing to say. And if they don’t care in the first place even when you do have something to say, well, you end up listening to a lot of self-centred crap.

I had a “friend” who redefined self-centred. I don’t know if she assumed I had nothing to say, but it was pretty obvious she didn’t care one way or the other. This was a typical conversation:

Me: Hello?

Her: Oh, hi. Are you busy?

Me: (Yes, always). I have a few minutes to talk.

Her: I’m working and I’m bored, so I thought I’d give you a call.

Me: Um, thanks.

Her: So, what are you up to?

Me: Well, I saw this great movie…

Her: [long silence]

Me: Hello?

Her: Oh, sorry—I was just… [The next 20 minutes are spent listening to her describe in depth the work that was too boring to keep her interested, prompting her to call you in the first place.]

You: Sounds like fun.

Her: Not really. Oh, the other line’s beeping—hold on. [Switches lines before you get a chance to respond.]

You: [Stare at the wall for what feels like forever, listening to the blank line, wishing you had a sharp object handy with which to stab yourself.]

Her: Oh, sorry—it’s a long-distance call. Can I call you back in 10 minutes?

You: Actually, I have a lot to do. Sorry.

Her: [sounding miffed] Oh. Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow, then.

You: Um…great.

Yeah, that was when my habit of screening calls started. Much like a guy, I expect my phone conversations to have a point. If you’re going to call, at least have the decency not to use me as background noise.

The friendship didn’t officially end until a year or so after this conversation, but this was really the beginning of the end. After going through a particularly difficult interlude of depression, I got some really happy, exciting (to me, anyway) news. The same day, I got a call from Miss “The Universe Revolves Around Me, Bitches.”

Her: Hi. What’s up?

Me: [Practically singing with enthusiasm] Actually, I just got some really great news, something I was hoping for but never thought would happen.

Her: That’s nice. So, I’m having problems with my boyfriend.

Me: [Feeling my enthusiasm deflate by the minute as she describes all the issues she’s having with her recently acquired boyfriend. Almost an hour later, I get to say something.]

Her: What do you think I should do?

Me: [Offer advice that’s logical, but not what she wants to hear.]

Her: But everyone else is telling me blah blah blah

Me: [Explain the reasons why I gave the advice I did.]

Her: [Realizing I’m not going to tell her what she wants to hear] So that’s exciting what happened to you today!

Me: I’ve got to go make dinner.

The relationship finally fell apart over something fairly minute, but after far too many years of putting up with her lack of caring for anything or anyone that didn’t directly relate to her and what she wanted, it was overdue. Partly because of her, I still have trouble letting my guard down, still don’t feel comfortable letting people too far in. Because when you let them in, they nest like parasites and take, and take, and take. At the time, I was worried about ending the friendship because we’d known each other a long time. But you know what? I don’t miss her. Not at all.