Couples argue for various reasons. What makes it impossible to determine who is right is that both have highly convincing versions.

Wife’s Version

One night, while having my tea in the kitchen, looking for something to help me sleep on that sleepless night, I was surprised by my husband’s arrival. Of course, there was nothing strange about him getting out of bed and going to the kitchen. The problem was that he was still asleep. He was even snoring, I noticed right away. Loud snoring.

He sat at the table where I was and started making those annoying sounds with his mouth, as he usually does when in his deepest sleep.

I even tried calling him, but he didn’t respond. I tried saying “hey,” “ow,” “psst,” and nothing. So, I tapped the cup, then the palm of my hand on the table. But he kept on snoring.

Then, between one noise and another with his mouth, he said:

– I would take a plane, first thing tomorrow.

I was startled. Sleepwalkers talk, it’s true. But I was caught off guard. So, I started to wonder: are they capable of having a conversation? I had heard somewhere that they are. So, I decided to test it.

– What did you say you would do?

– I would take a plane. The first one!

Wow! He responded. It seemed fun.

– A plane? – I asked, finding the situation amusing. – But a plane to where, dear?

– To the north, I guess. Or maybe even to another country, preferably.

How cool!

– And what would you do in the North or another country?

– Stay as far away from you as possible.

That took me by surprise. Far… from me?

– What do you mean?

– I need peace. I can’t stand your quirks anymore, woman.

Suddenly, the fun of the game was lost.

– Quirks? What quirks?

– What do you mean “what quirks”? – The sleepwalker started counting on his fingers. – You can’t stand it when the tablecloth and bedspreads aren’t perfectly straight, you make a fuss when I leave my shoes in the living room, you almost have a fit when I put my jacket on top of the shirts on the hanger, and it gets even worse when I put wet dishes in the cupboard…

– Hey, someone in this house has to value organization, don’t they? – Irritated.

– … you complain about dust that only you can see on the furniture and knick-knacks, you excommunicate me if I let the dog onto the couch, you go into despair if I put used clothes in the drawer, you forbid me from lying down without brushing my teeth, denying me the pleasure of preserving the taste of peanut butter in my mouth…

– Someone in this house has to care about hygiene, don’t you think, you rude pig?

– … and on top of everything, you complain about absolutely everything I do.

– How dare you?

– That’s why I feel like disappearing. Far away. Maybe live among the indigenous people, where they’re more civilized than you…

– Well, you should just disappear then, ungrateful one. If you don’t appreciate what you have, then vanish. The door is open for you – I replied, huffing as I went back to the bedroom.

Husband’s Version

I woke up that morning, and the missus looked like a porcupine. All prickly, with the expression of an ill-tempered bulldog, didn’t even respond to my “good morning.

Women… go figure!


Juliano Martinz is a writer, biographer, and creator of the website Corrosiva Literature.

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