Your boyfriend is upset because you won’t ever spend more than twenty minutes at one time with him. Whether it be dinner, a conversation about your and his dreams, sex, even trips to the movies have to be interrupted by you getting up and going out to the lobby every twenty minutes and then coming right back.
“I’ve had it,” he says.
“I’ll explain,” you say.
Tell him that when you were six your mom died and your Dad got arrested for robbing a Party supply store a bunch of times, so you were in danger of being thrown into the foster care system. Luckily for you, your Dad frequented a brothel full of really nice and caring prostitutes. Just before he went off to jail they agreed to take you in.
They provided a warm, loving environment. Unfortunately, though, they had a habit of limiting all of their interactions to the length of time it takes for a lit cigarette to burn down to its filter.
“Any time I’d come in and ask one of them about the difference between right and wrong, or what happens to us after we die, just after I sat down she’d light a cigarette and set it in a nearby ashtray. Once the cigarette went out, the prostitute would just get up and go downstairs to the sitting room of the brothel. Even if I was crying over having not gotten asked to go to a dance.”
It was just a habit for them, tell him. Day after day they voluntarily entered into terrible transactions, their only escape being the passage of a set amount of time. They couldn’t help but live their lives in those chunks of minutes.
“I guess they passed it on to me,” say.
“I’m so sorry you had to live like that,” your boyfriend will say. “I’m willing to work through this with you. I just need you to communicate with me and –“
You get up and walk away.
Happy Why Won’t You Ever Spend More Then Twenty Minutes At A Time With Your Boyfriend? Day!