And the vast majority of the time, it is Man who is privy to these certifiably insane outbursts. We will have done our normal bedtime routine, turned the lights off and then perhaps begun discussing things we are doing the next day, or gently remind each other about some chore which needs attention. We'll kiss each other good night and assume our own favoured positions for a speedy entry into Sleepsville.
However, occasionally, I am still hyperactive and cannot stand the silence, so I decide I need to introduce a riveting topic which will ensure he stays awake to keep me company just a little bit longer.
'Honey, you know trees?'
'I'm vaguely familiar with them'.
'Cool, well, what would it be like if there weren't any trees?'
'What'. (Let me be clear, this is always a statement, not an actual question).
'What would it be li-'
'No, I heard you, I just can't quite believe you're asking me that question'.
'But why? It's an interesting topic'.
'Look up the word interesting'.
'THAT IS MEAN'.
'You're 26. Now go to sleep.'
'Your face is 26. YOU go to sleep.'
He rolls onto his back and exhales. 'That makes no sense whatsoever'.
'So's your face'.
'What? That makes even less sense. You were making no sense at all and now by making even less sense, the sense you are making has negative properties'.
'You know what else has negative properties? Electrons. They buzz around the nucleus that is full of protons and Chemistry is so awesome I wish I was a scientist so I could do science all the time. Also I love pipettes and Bunsen Burners so it'd be like having fun all day with dangerous chemicals! I could melt stuff and make things explode and shit. I could win a Nobel Prize and spend all the money on sweets and toys! You know once I got sent to the headmistress's office for writing 'pooh' on the back of a girl's lab coat in chemistry class with distilled water'.
'Great'.
'It really was. You know what else was great?'
'Try not talking'.
My insatiable desire to win and glee at the prospect of acheiving something, no matter how small, will see me not talking with so much energy and excitement that my stiffly inert yet buzzing mass in the bed becomes more annoying than my actual voice.
He gives in. 'I can hear you trying to win'.
Silence. Then a little voice, 'See, I did not talking. I win.'
'Oh God, WHAT have I DONE?!' His anguished voice pierces the still night, and I know with unshakeable certainty that this is one of the unfortunately not rare moments when he begins to seriously question his major life choices, namely sharing his house and his future with a real life infant woman.
I rebut with a whiney 'Whhhaaaaaaaaat?'. It starts at a tone slightly higher than my normal speaking voice, descends slightly then plummets to a much lower resonance, a good octave and a bit below, then begins to slowly climb again. I can draw it out for a good 8 seconds and sounds not unlike a vuvuzela.
Silence.
I go on. 'Do you still like me?'
He then begins to plea, as if for his very life. 'For the love of everything holy, I am begging you, PLEASE just SHUT the FUCK UP!' The words fall on deaf ears, however, as one of the many weapons in my ever irritating arsenal is my ability to fall asleep in a matter of seconds. I have the last laugh, as he is wide awake and will stay that way long after the echoes of our infuriating conversation have ebbed away, due to a combination of unbridled exasperation and my unconscious habit of chewing ferociously in my sleep.
Win!
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