Anyway, her husband was just coming back home, and while he was reaching one of the pancakes from the plate, he spill the wine all over the table and the floor. She was pissed at him, she cursed at him. I was a little bit embarrassed to be caught in the middle of that.
And in that moment, I don't know why exactly but I remembered last year when she had Christmas party in her house. There was not many people, maybe like 15 of us, but we made quite a mess. And I remember that one of her husbands friends, totally stranger to her, he spilled beer on her phone and that phone stop working. I saw it in her eyes that she was pissed off and that she would rather kill him, but she just put on a fake smile on her face, took the phone and try to dry it. That guy apologized to her, he even offered to buy her a new one because this one clearly didn't work anymore, but she just put on her game smile again and said: "Don't worry, it's just a phone."
So when her husband went to the other room, I asked her does she remember that. She was like: "Of course I do, that idiot screw up my phone!"
In that moment I saw that she was still angry at that guy.
And then I asked her how come that she was nice to him, to a complete stranger even though she had all right to be mad, but just a minute ago she was an asshole to her husband? To a man she loves, has family with?
Both of us just sat there in silence for a few minutes and I could see the guilt on her face. I said to her: "Sorry, I didn't want to sound mean and to get you in a bad mood."
And she said to me: "It's not a problem that you said that, the problem is that you were right!"
So for some reason, the night that was supposed to be relaxing turn out to be philosophical night. We talked about why do we always act like assholes towards persons we love, but we are nice to complete strangers. We were talking about that topic until we finished bottle of wine. Then, when I started to feel dizzy I knew that was my time to call a cab.
When I came back home, I was in some romantic mood so I made myself a bubble bath and just relaxed there for some time. And I was still by the impression of our talk that night, that I couldn't help but wonder-why the hell are we mean to the people we love? Why don't we just react on their screw ups like we would if some stranger was on the line?
Is it because we know they love us and that they will forgive us for that?
Or is it because it hurts more when someone we love screws up?
But then again, nobody got hurt because her husband spilled the wine and she was an asshole to him, but that Christmas party her phone got hurt, and she managed to be nice.
I don't get it!
Why do we have constant need for other people, for complete strangers to like us, but we take advantage of people that we love? We take them for granted.
Why don't we act nice with the people around us who loves us, who take care of us?
Why don't we just say to them: "Don't worry it's just a phone, or don't worry, it's just a stupid table and a stupid wine. It can be cleaned up!"
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